From Within the Shadows
by smoking-tulips
Summary: Maarten de Vries; the vampire hunter. From all over Europe people summoned him for his assistance, and while his prices weren't cheap - he never once failed a job. His fame and wealth grew, and with it his ego. He was invincible. Or so he thought.
1. Chapter 1

Maarten de Vries was not a man to be ignored.  
Not necessarily by his own choice; he simply stood out.  
And while this came in handy at times, it also got him into a lot of trouble.  
One bar fight here, one back alley fight there.  
It built a reputation.

And when you have a fearsome reputation, it's hard to get rid off it.  
God knew he had tried.  
But even after seven years at medical school and graduating with top grades, he couldn't shake the rumour off him.

So Maarten made the best of the situation that he could.  
He wasn't stupid; far from it.  
Maarten was well educated and enjoyed books and the silence they brought with them in numbers.  
With a keen mind for business and profit he had turned to witch hunting.  
It seemed logical.

Find "witches", get rid of them, cash in money from gullible people. Repeat until he grew bored.  
It was foolproof.

Until a fool found how to ruin it all.

Maarten first became aware that something was wrong when the woman he was supposed to burn for witchcraft escaped from within the cell in front of his very eyes. A layer of dust floating in the air was all that spoke of her having been the at all.  
The next sign was that people were found dead in back alleys, no sign of a fight or a struggle.

Just two small puncture wounds in their neck.

Maarten performed several dissections on the victims to determine what it had been.  
But there was nothing to suggest anything wrong with them biologically. There were no damage to organs - internal or external. No organs were missing. No external trauma. No bruises or broken bones.

The only thing they all had in common was the lack of blood in their veins.

It was his first run in with a vampire.  
An undead.  
A creature from the shadows who did not die by guns or swords alone.

And while he executed the woman and burnt her heart; he knew it wouldn't be the last time he faced one of these killers.

But Maarten didn't fear them. He instead studied them.  
From history books to catching them and observing them in captivity in his lab.  
Maarten discovered what made them tick.  
He discovered what they fed on.  
How they fed.  
How they moved.  
Slept.

But most importantly; he discovered how to kill them.

Slowly he build himself a reputation.

Maarten de Vries; the vampire hunter.

From all over Europe people summoned him for his assistance, and while his prices weren't cheap - he never once failed a job.  
His fame and wealth grew, and with it his ego.  
He was invincible.

Or so he thought.

It was the eve of his 30th birthday that he met him.  
Mircea had been charming, witty and willing to buy him drinks.  
Which was all Maarten needed tonight.  
They had spoke of universities, the economy and how unreliable banks could be.  
Maarten had even laughed at the man's jokes.

"So, doctor de Vries," Mircea had asked as he swirled his wine around in his glass "what is it you do outside of teaching young men how to cut open corpses?"  
"I hunt vampires," Maarten had replied without pause, smiling ever so slightly. He took pride in his work. He saved lives outside of hospitals - he had every right to be proud.  
"Vampires? What for?"  
"To rid the world of them," Maarten rolled his eyes "they infect the very heart of society like a plague, bring out the worst in humans and bleed them all dry like the desert,"

"Oh my, sounds like you have a personal vendetta!"  
"Not at all. I just don't like plagues and sickness,"  
"But are they really that?"  
"What else could they be?" Maarten spat into his empty glass and slid it across the bar.  
"They hide in shadows, they prey on the weak and scurry away from all that is good and holy. Clearly they are vermin,"  
"But even vermin belong in this world. Do they not?"  
"Not this type," Maarten grumbled, however, as Mircea placed his hand on his shoulder he became aware of how quiet the bar had suddenly gone.

Looking up, Maarten realised he was all alone - save for the Romanian man by his side.  
"What's going on?"  
"It is your birthday tomorrow, is it not?" Mircea whispered and smirked dangerously.  
"I just thought I'd give you a little present,"

Maarten's eyes widened in fear as he saw the glint of sharp fangs.  
But he couldn't move.  
Frozen in place; held down by shadows and fear he could only watch as Mircea leant in closer.

The sensation of teeth sinking into his neck was unlike anything he had imagined.  
He had done experiments. He had sustained many injuries.  
But never once had those teeth bit him.

Maarten felt his consciousness slipping as the world began to go dark at the edges.  
His vision was blurring and there wasn't anything he could do.  
He felt angry at falling for the trap.  
He felt rage at this vampire for succeeding.

But most of all, Maarten felt fear.

Fear that this was how it ended.  
Miles from home and without being able to say goodbye to his sister.

"Foolish man," he heard Mircea whisper in his ear before everything went black.

—-

A hangover was nothing new.  
But this was like no hangover he had ever had.  
Maarten awoke with a splitting headache and rolled out of bed and onto the floor like a very ungraceful sack of potatoes.  
Cursing, he slowly sat up and rubbed his sore head.  
Bit by bit the night before stared to come back to him.

He had been drinking.  
A lot.  
There had been a man.  
Very nice. Smartly dressed.  
He had bought him drinks.  
A lot.  
And he had smiled.

Maarten stopped breathing and stood up far too fast.  
Stumbling out of his room and to the bathroom, he practically tore down the mirror in the wall as he stared at his own reflection.  
The relief of seeing his own reflection was short lived.  
Besides the dark circles and pale skin, two puncture wounds on his neck stood out like sore thumbs.  
Shaking, Maarten slowly ran his tongue over his teeth.

His heart appeared to skip several beats when he hit sharp fangs, and shakily he opened his mouth to confirm his fear.  
Fangs.  
Just like Mircea.  
Just like all the vampires he had killed.  
He was just like them.

With a rage filled scream, Maarten shattered the mirror with his fist.  
He heaved for air and dug his fist into the glass shards.  
Only temporarily calmed by the sight of his own blood oozing out of the cuts.

Maybe there was a cure? He tried to reason to himself.  
Maybe he wouldn't have to become a monster?  
However, as he watched the cuts close up and heal themselves as if they had never been there, Maarten's heart sank.

Hesitantly he made his way to the kitchen.  
He was thirsty, but no amount of water satisfied him.  
Milk did no good either.  
Beer, vodka, wine.  
He drank everything he could and still the hunger for something sat deep within him.

Blood, he thought.  
Vampires drank blood.  
But he couldn't allow himself to sink to their levels.  
He couldn't let himself become one of them.

Blood. Blood.  
Blood was made up of different components!  
Perhaps if he could find the right ingredients, he wouldn't need to kill?

The thought spurred him on, and a little seed of hope took root in his heart.  
He could win this war he decided.

He could save himself from this curse, and continue his work.

Water, sugar, sodium, fructose, folic acid, insulin, iron, sulfur, zinc, mercury and numerous vitamins.  
Amongst some.  
He could create a cocktail of components found in blood.  
And if he was lucky - it might still his craving.

He was a doctor. He had access to everything he needed.  
Books, labs, and all the ingredients and drugs he could want.

Systematically, he could treat this like a disease.  
And diseases had cures. Or at least ways to slow them down.

The concoction was far from tasty, and several times Maarten felt like he had to vomit as he gulped down the pitcher of his 'medicine'.  
But it stilled the thirst.  
Somewhat at least.

He could continue.  
Maarten had to smirk.

Soon he would find out just why Doctor Maarten de Vries was such a feared man.  
Maarten swore he would prove just how dangerous he could be.

Vampires were a disease, and as a doctor his duty was to rid the world of disease.

The vampire had thought he could beat him; and Mircea had certainly won the battle, but the war was not over.

* * *

Names used in this fic:  
Maarten - Netherlands  
Mircea - Romania  
Erik - Norway  
Halldór - Iceland  
Cecilé - Monaco  
Veronique - Seychelles  
Ciprian - Moldova


	2. Chapter 2

Maarten spent weeks doing research and experiments on himself and any vampire he could get his hands on.  
Methodically he went through each component in blood and injected them one by one into restrained vampires to see what made them the most calm. Or in some cases: what sent them into an even bigger frenzy.

Once the core ingredients were found, Maarten began experimenting on what combination worked the best.  
It was a lot of trial and error, with one vampire withering away to dust after one rather lethal injection of mercury, iron and insulin.

He made a note of that being a possible way to kill a vampire, and then went back to his experiments.

Vampires didn't like sunlight, their skin couldn't handle it, but Maarten discover he wasn't fully vampiric yet.  
And after a few days of experimenting on himself, Maarten discovered he could stay out in sunlight for longer if he just upped his dose of vitamin D. Another note in his journals and back to research.

It brought him hope.  
Hope that he could overcome this disease and win the war once and for all.

One of the vampires he had caught had been a young little thing.  
No older than fifteen at best, with an oddly white colour to his hair and a purple hue to his eyes.  
Maarten had been pleasantly surprised that the vampire almost seemed to look forward to the injections of his serum.

"You need a partner," the boy had spoke one day after Maarten had given him the drug.  
"Pardon?" He was surprised to hear actual words form from his prisoners. Usually they just hissed and spat at him.  
"A business partner. This drug. You could mass produce it,"  
"What would a vampire know about pharmacology?" Maarten was far from trusting. Vampires were not to be trusted with anything. He learnt the hard way.

"My brother is a pharmacologist. Owns his own drug company…" The young vampire explained.  
"Why are you telling me this?"  
"Because I want to see him…."  
"Is he like you?"  
"No, " the boy shook his head. "He thinks I died five years ago…"

Maarten mulled over the boys words for the rest of the day.  
On one hand there was a possibility the kid had a point.  
And his words were true; a pharmacologist could certainly help him perfect his drug.  
His serum.  
His salvation.

But how would he do it?  
He couldn't exactly waltz into the mans office with his previously presumed dead brother in tow.  
That would give the man a heart attack. Surely.

Nordic Pharmacologies was a large business that had grown from one little shop to an international sensation.  
The owner; Erik, had built it up himself in a frighteningly short time.  
Maarten admired that. He liked a man who put business first.

So in the end he had thrown a thick hooded cloak over the young vampire, handcuffed him to himself and dragged him to the company headquarters.

"Cancel all of the boss's appointments," he told the bespectacled lady at the reception "this meeting will take time,"  
"I'm afraid I can't do that," she replied cooly back, not at all intimidated by his height or demeanour.  
"Trust me. He will make you do it later if not,"  
"Erik is methodically in his work. He's not going to cancel everything for you two," the woman near sneered in turn as she pushed her glasses in place.

"Let me see him and I'm sure he will change his mind,"  
"Very well….," the woman shrugged and pressed the button to the intercom. "Erik. There'a a nut job of a man here to see you,"  
"You know the procedure Cecilé. Tell him to fuck off," a cold voice replied.  
"I tried. He's rather persistent,"  
"He gets five minutes. If he can't condense his proposal into that then he can leave,"

"You heard the man," Cecilé smiled and pointed to the large double doors "you get five minutes,"  
"I'll be getting more," Maarten smirked as he dragged the little vampire behind him.

"You have five minutes to explain your business proposal. If you can't, you leave," Erik didn't even look up from his desk.  
"Why don't you have a look at my little friend first," Maarten yanked the little vampire forward and pulled down his hood.

"I don't see what your friend has to do with busine-" he stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of the vampire.  
"Halldór?" He gaped.  
"Long time no see…." The vampire smiled slightly and looked terribly embarrassed.

"But you died!" Erik was now on his feet and rushing around his desk.  
Maarten regretted handcuffing the vampire to himself when Erik embraced the kid and hugged him so hard Halldór actually got colour in his cheeks.

"Yeah well… I didn't get to stay dead. Sadly," Halldór mumbled once Erik was done squeezing the second life out of him.  
"Explain," Erik turned to Maarten.  
"It's gonna take longer than five minutes," Maarten smirked.

"Cecilé," Erik was on the intercom "Please cancel all appointments and then bring us all coffee. This is not going to be quick,"

Maarten heard the surprise in Cecilé's voice and couldn't help but smirk.  
'Told you,' he muttered under his breath when she walked through the doors and almost dropped the tray of cups.  
"Sit down. All of you. I want an explanation," Erik crossed his arms, and Maarten complied - dragging Halldór down with him.

"Your little brother here is a vampire," Maarten blurted out bluntly, wanting for both Cecilé and Erik to resume breathing before he continued.  
"I caught him outside a bar when he was trying to bite a man much larger than himself," he patted Halldór's head. It had been a valiant effort on the teen's part, but one large Turkish man wasn't going down so easily. Vampire or not, Halldór was still young.

"Halldór, is this true?" Erik's voice was soft, barely above a whisper.  
Halldór just nodded.  
"But… How!?"  
Maarten nudged the teen. "Speak. Tell us how and who,"  
"I was just supposed to meet my friends, you know? The usual?"  
Erik nodded.  
"But I wanted to stop by the shops to get some food, and when I left I had this horrible feeling someone was following me. And I was right. This man grabbed me by the jacket and dragged me into an alleyway…"  
"Where police found you dead the next morning," Erik whispered, biting his nails as he glanced worriedly back and forth between Halldór, Maarten and Cecilé.

"Did you see the mans face? The vampire?" Maarten asked, rummaging in his pockets for the key to the handcuffs.  
"No…" Halldór looked ashamed as he held the cup of coffee Cecilé had given him "but he said I should send Erik my regards from… Uh. The Trio Magie?"

Erik's cup clattered to the floor and his face went as white as Halldór's hair.

"Well this just got interesting," Maarten mumbled.  
"Are you sure?" Erik's voice was shaking as badly as his hands now.  
"Well I did black out right after and then woke up in a coffin. But yeah. Petty sure,"

Erik sank down in his chair, muttering curses and swears under his breath.  
"Care to explain, Erik?" Maarten said after he felt this had gone on for a bit too long for his liking. He was here to discuss business, not be their therapist. That was extra.

"The Trio Magie. Or magic trio. It was a silly little club that went horribly serious back in my school days,"  
"Oh? Did you go to a school with vampires?" Maarten looked a little disgusted at the prospect.  
"No. Or maybe. Possibly,"  
"You'r being very vague here. Either explain or I'm taking this little kid into the town square to burn him,"

Halldór made a sound that sounded like a whimper of fear.  
"Please don't," Erik begged.  
"Then get on with this story. I am not going to sit here all day,"  
"Could have told me that before I cancelled all the appointments," Cecilé mumbled to herself.

"There was three of us in the same math and science classes, hence the rather lame name," Erik began "Arthur Kirkland is a friend of mine from way back. He's from a good family, rich and all that. But he was always a little wild. In university we met with a third guy. Romanian. Mircea Ionescu I think was his full name…"

Maarten's eyes went wide and without thinking he shattered the ceramic cup in his hands.  
"I'll go get some bandages," Cecilé stood up and gave him a worried look.  
"No need," Maarten grumbled as he plucked shards out of his hand and watched the wounds close up "just continue,"

Erik swallowed nervously.  
"At first it was just innocent experiments. Blowing things up and trying to make various plants grow larger. Nothing to be worried about. But then Arthur brought an old book in, said that in it there was a way to live forever. And that's when things got a little too creepy,"  
"Live forever? You wanted immortality?" Maarten glared, almost wanting to pull out his gun to prove just how not fun immortality could be. Halldór would be a fine showcase.

"No. I didn't. But Arthur was fascinated by it, and Mircea spurred him on. They did all kinds of research and experiments on it. Some weren't all too legal I believe,"  
"You guys turned the water green at some point," Cecilé muttered "took me ages to get my hair back to it's natural colour,"

"Yes, sorry about that. Again," Erik coughed "But as I was saying, Arthur wanted to know more and Mircea provided all the information he could want. At first I didn't think much of it. Mircea was rich, he had contacts. I didn't question how he got so many old books about magic,"  
"But you backed out?" Maarten cast a glance around the office. There were no books on magic here.  
"I did. Second year of university. I said I couldn't keep up with the club and my studies - a blatant lie, but it made them stop pestering me,"

"So what happened next?" Maarten leant closer.  
"Nothing. I graduated, started up this company and took over Halldór's care. I was…or am his legal guardian…" Erik looked worriedly at Halldór, as if he still couldn't quite believe it.

"So you don't know why Mircea would turn your bother in to a vampire?"  
"Mircea is a vampire?" Cecilé whispered in disbelief.  
"I've got more than one way to prove that," Maarten grumbled. "But yes, he is. But I want to know why he would essentially kill your brother,"

"I'm not sure. I've not spoken to either of them since leaving university," Erik sighed "I don't exactly send Christmas cards to people who seem to wish to rise the dead,"  
"You barely send Christmas cards to your best friends," Cecilé reminded him bitterly.

"He must wish you to do something. Or he wants something from you. Vampires don't leave people alive for no reason,"  
"Where do you fit in then?" Halldór asked, and Maarten suddenly found all eyes on him.  
"I met Mircea in a bar…"  
"No good comes from vampires in bars," Halldór rolled his eyes.  
"Well we both know that, now don't we?" Maarten hissed at him.

"Sorry," Halldór mumbled and pulled the hood over his head.

"Mircea bit me. However, I've found a way to keep myself from turning completely," Maarten sighed, bearing his teeth for Erik to see.  
"A cure?" Erik's eyes went wide.  
"Cure and cure. But it seems to stop the cravings for human blood somewhat,"  
"Tastes like death," Halldór mumbled from under his hood. Maarten elbowed him hard in the side.

"Interesting," Erik tapped his fingers against his chin "so why we you here to tell me all this?"  
"Your brother suggested you would be able to mass produce it easier than I can,"  
"Well…" Erik smirked "I might be,"  
"Good. Because if you want him to keep being this sane and reasonable, you'll want him on it forever,"  
"Like diabetes?" Cecilé asked.  
"Insulin is actually part of the serum, so yes. Kinda like diabetes," Maarten replied.  
"Except diabetic people don't rip out someone's throat when you forget their insulin,"

"I never ripped out anyone's throat," Halldór looked positively offended. "I did maybe kill a drunk guy in a back alley when I first woke up…."  
"First mistake. Once you've drank human blood you turn fully. If you can get the serum before the blood, you stay sane,"  
"Relatively speaking of course," Halldór cut in "you're a real nutcase at times too,"  
"Shut it, kiddo," Maarten hissed under his breath.

"So this serum," Erik interjected before they could beat one another up "what did you find?"  
"There are a few components in blood that still the carving, or the thirst if you what to call it that," Maarten unclasped his hand from the handcuffs, giving Halldór a stern glare before he bent down to pick up his bag.

Halldór didn't move.

"However, other components in the blood makes the cravings worse. Which is why once you've taste human blood you struggle to stop," he handed Erik a large file of his findings.  
"So you want a drug made of these components?" Erik stared at the list.  
"Yes. But that's just what I've found so far. With more research we can possibly find a way to reverse vampirism fully,"

Erik went silent, reading over the papers with a frown on his face.

"But to perfect it we need more test subjects," Cecilé looked a little concerned.  
"We can capture more," Halldór suggested quietly. "It's quite nice to not feel that horrible hunger… So you'd be doing us a favour,"  
"But some combinations are lethal…" Erik tapped the one paragraph he was currently reading. Out of the five vampires Maarten had caught, only one had died. But two had been on the brink. Finding a cure was not going to be without sacrifice.  
"We either save more people from being bitten either way," Maarten argued.  
"If one or two or ten vampires have to die while we perfect the drug, then so be it. In the end it will be for the best, don't you all agree?"

Silence settled between them, but Maarten remained steadfast.

"Very well. I'll do it. You provide me with more test subjects and I'll get straight on this,"  
"Shall I alert our team?" Cecilé asked softly.  
"No. Top secret for now. Only the four of us will know about this until more things have been settled. Are we all clear on this?" Erik looked around at the other three. Slowly everyone nodded in agreement.

"I know off a place down town where some vampires gather…some are pretty wild…" Halldór bit his lip and glanced up at Maarten.  
"Good. Looks like you'll be helping me catch some vampires then kiddo,"

"Lucky me," Halldór grumbled.


	3. Chapter 3

It was weird to be working with someone else.  
Let alone a vampire.  
Even if said vampire bore about as much of a grudge against vampires as he did.

None the less, Maarten and Halldór were an unlikely and mismatched team.  
A thirty-something half vampire and a vampire who looked 15 but was actually 20.  
They stuck out in any crowd, especially with Halldór's shock of white hair, which Maarten was currently cursing.

"Why don't you just dye it a normal colour? I've never met a vampire with white hair,"  
"I had this before I died you insensitive fucker," Halldór hissed in return, baring his fangs up at Maarten.  
"Really?" Maarten stared.  
"Yes,"  
"Jeez, no wonder you were such an easy target,"  
"What's that supposed to mean?"  
"You're 15 and you have the hair of an old man. That screams different no matter where you go,"

Halldór frowned and grumbled something Maarten couldn't catch.

Not the best start to their day.  
Or evening to be more specific.  
Halldór didn't like sunlight. And no amount of vitamin D supplements helped him right now.  
But Maarten didn't wish to go the a vampire lair alone.  
Halldór had at least been living with them for five years, he could get them both inside.  
And from there on it would be easy picking.

Or so he hoped.

Halldór had said there was one or two vampires he thought he could maybe convince to come peacefully.  
Maarten agreed, and with his hood drawn over his head to hide his features, he followed after Halldór.

"By the darkest heavens! Halldór!" A voice called out the moment they stepped inside, and before Maarten could think, a tanned girl had picked Halldór up and hugged him tightly.  
"Now, now, please do not hug him so tightly Veronique," another voice said from somewhere within the shadows.  
"But he's been gone for weeks!"  
"I'm fine thanks," Halldór muttered as the girl hugged him even tighter. "Francis, help," Maarten heard Halldór whisper weakly.

"Please, Veronique. Let him down," the man who was apparently called Francis stepped out from the dark and placed his hand on the girls shoulder.  
With a huff, Veronique let Halldór go.  
"I was worried!" She grasped Halldór's hand instead.  
"No need," Halldór lied "I'm fine. I just felt like visiting some family,"  
"A very bad idea. What if you had been spotted?" Francis warned.  
"A risk I was willing to take,"

"Who's your friend?" Veronique asked and looked up at Maarten.  
"Just some newbie I found down by the docs. Looked a bit lost," Halldór shrugged, and Maarten's swore to himself he was going to break the little fuckers neck.

"Ah well, my dear friend!" Francis laughed and held his hand forward "please do not be so silent! It is safe here for us all,"  
"Thank you…." Maarten grumbled as he shook the vampires hand.  
"How long have you been one of us?" Francis asked.  
"Less than a year," Maarten shrugged, hoping the vampire didn't see through his lies.  
"Really?"

Maarten nodded, but he was feeling uneasy.  
"Come then. Let me show you around,"  
"That's okay, I think I'll be fine,"  
"I'll find something to drink!" Veronique smiled and skipped away into the shadows with Halldór in tow, leaving Maarten all alone with Francis and god knows how many more vampires.

"Do not be scared," Francis hummed as he took Maarten's arm and led him deeper into the house "I won't harm you,"  
"I don't think you could either to be honest," Maarten frowned. As much as he hated his predicament, he was at least grateful that it was a lot safer for him to go anywhere alone.

"Now, I wouldn't say that so confidently in here," Francis chuckled and squeezed Maarten's arm a little as they entered a back room.  
He heard the door close behind them, and Maarten braced himself for an ambush.  
But nothing came.  
Instead Francis snapped his fingers and several candles lit up.

Maarten stared around the room.  
It was richly furnished, with one large double bed in one corner, a table with some chairs around it in the middle and a book case filled with books that looked ancient.  
"Nice place," he mumbled.  
"Just because I'm dead doesn't mean I can't be comfortable," Francis laughed and pulled up a chair for himself as he gestured for Maarten to do the same.

"But please, do tell me what a vampire hunter is doing in a vampire lair?"  
Maarten froze, sweat pouring down his back.  
"What do you mean?"  
"Oh please. You don't smell like one of us. You're still human. Somewhat," Francis smiled at him.

"Well. I can explain," Maarten slowly removed his hood. He had no reason to hide his face.  
"Oh, half alive and handsome. You're just my type," Francis winked.  
"Everyone is your type," Veronique said as he entered the room with Halldór still in tow.

"Not true,"  
"Completely true," she giggled as he handed Francis a glass bottle of red liquid.

"Halldór, why don't you explain why you've brought the one and only vampire hunter de Vries to our home,"

Veronique chocked on her drink and stared wide eyed between Halldór and Maarten.  
"What?" She stammered.  
"I can explain!" Halldór held his hands up and looked at her apologetically.  
"Your brought a man who wants to kill us all here!?" Veronique was furious, and Maarten could see her eyes glow with rage.

"Please, miss, calm down. I'm not here to kill anyone today," Maarten placed a hand on Halldór's shoulder, the guy was shaking.  
"Calm down? You're a hunter! I should kill you!" She screeched.  
"Vernoqnie, lets listen to the man before we murder him," Francis dragged her down to his chair, hugging her tightly and whispering something in her ear that Maarten didn't quite catch.  
But it worked.  
She sat down quietly, and just glared at him instead.

"So Mr de Vries, why don't you explain?" Francis tapped his fingers against the table and smiled coolly.

"Halldór's brother has agreed to help me make a drug that will stifle the worst cravings for blood. However, despite my own research we still need more test subjects. We came here in hopes of getting some vampires for further development of this drug,"  
"Your brother?" Francis turned to Halldór with a concerned expression "so he knows about you now?"  
"Yes…"  
"Very well," Francis sighed "what exactly do you want?"

"A few of the most unreliable vampires you can find. Ones who clearly have no humanity left in them," Maarten stuffed his hand in his coat pocket and drew out a small glass vial.  
"In return you will too get the serum…"  
"And it works?" Francis examined the small bottle.  
"It does," Halldór interjected "he gave it to me…"

"And you're clearly no worse off," Francis went quiet for a moment as he looked at the serum and then to Veronique. "Very well, I will accept. But I refuse to stay in this house if I am to be a traitor to my own kin. You must find us a new place,"  
"Erik has a mansion. He has agreed to house a few of us if you can promise not to turn or attack anyone within the house," Halldór smiled slightly.  
"On my honour as a vampire and nobleman," Francis smiled "I've not killed anyone in a few years. I'm not going to start up again now," he chuckled.

"So we get a new place?" Veronique perked up and smiled.  
"Your own room even," Halldór explained with a smile, and for a moment Maarten thought they looked like your average teenagers in love.

"Anyway," he coughed and turned his attention to Francis. "Do you know any vampires who might be too far gone?"  
"A few," Francis took a swig from his bottle of blood, licking his lips slowly - a notion that made Maarten somewhat uncomfortable.  
"Let us get to this mansion first, and then I'll get you the vampires you need, deal?"

Maarten stared at Francis hand, but he shook it firmly.  
Francis was in Halldór's words "one of the oldest and wisest vampires around," and thus Maarten had decided it was better to have him on his good side as a ally than on his bad side as an enemy.

None the less, he kinda pitied Erik.  
The man was nice enough to open his house to three vampires and one half vampire; along with using his own personal laboratory in his basement for further research and development.

Maarten wasn't sure if Erik was just very fond of his little brother, or if there was more to the man that he had thought; but he was none the less thankful.  
As was Veronique, if her scream of joy was to be believed when Halldór showed her to her new room in the mansion.  
Cecilé too seemed to take it all in stride. Insisting that her and Veronique had to go shopping.  
Maarten had to laugh when he heard the petite woman tell Veronique that "it doesn't matter how many years you've been alive. You can not keep walking around in that thin dress,"

In return for a new home, Francis kept up his deal; and soon they had four vampires locked up in the lab.

Maarten was a little anxious about them, but he moved his own 'experiments' down to Erik's lab too.  
Or as Erik referred to them; their patients.

Perhaps it was due to the mans background in pharmacology, or maybe due to his little brother being a vampire; Erik refused to refer to the captured vampires as anything else but patients.  
Where possible he also used their names - if he was able to find out.

Different techniques also distinguished them.  
Maarten was more reckless, he didn't value the vampires lives.  
Erik was more rational; he ensued the dosages of potential lethal substances were lowered to only make them be in pain - instead of outright killing them like Maarten had done a few times by accident.

And while Maarten would have liked a serum to be finished in just a few weeks, he realised that it would not be that simple.

"Garlic," Erik had said and tossed Maarten a bunt of them.  
"What about it?"  
"Vampires hate it,"  
"Yeah. I knew that. Why do you think my bedroom is full of it? In case I get hungry and feel like eating a few?"  
"You might as well. I think it would do you good, "

Maarten stared at the garlic.  
"What?"  
"I first thought it was just the smell that repulsed them, after all, Halldór reports his sense of smell altered a lot after he changed. Garlic smells different to vampires than humans,"  
"Fair enough, even humans don't like too much garlic… "  
"No, but we can get used to it, but vampires can't,"  
"So their weakness is garlic. Brilliant… What else have you found?" Maarten rolled his eyes.

"Well," Erik cleared his throat and pulled out a small leather bound journal from his pocket.  
"Besides the strong scent, not much else seemed to be the reason why vampires can't stand garlic. So I extracted each compound individually and compared them to components found in blood,"  
"So instead of a cure you've just found out why vampires hate garlic? What is this nonsense?" Maarten was growing bored of always feeling thirsty.

"Shut up and listen for once," Erik growled, and for a moment Maarten was scared Erik had been turned too.  
Note to self; he hadn't gotten this far in business by being shy and silent.

"Garlic contains folic acid, sodium, zinc and magnesium. These same components I have found help satisfy the hunger and thirst for blood. So by this logic vampires should like garlic,"  
Maarten stared at the garlic bulbs in his hand.  
This was taking an interesting turn.  
As Erik spoke he peeled a garlic clove and popped it in his mouth.  
It tasted awfully more metallic than he was used to, but Erik was right; he did feel less hungry.

"Wow," he mumbled.  
"Are you even paying attention?"  
"No sorry. Repeat it again,"

Erik groaned and walked up to Maarten with a frown.  
Before Maarten could ask what he was doing, Erik had stabbed a needle into his arm and injected him with whatever was in the syringe.

"Ahhh!" Maarten reeled back and glared at Erik, rubbing his arm and fighting a strong urge to break the mans nose.  
"Now that I have your attention," Erik crossed his arms and frowned "maybe you would like to listen?"  
"Yes, sure. Fucking hell,"

"As I was saying. Garlic contains much of the same components as blood. But there is one difference,"  
"And that is what vampires hate?"  
"Yes. Selenium. You may know it?"  
"Yes. Deadly in large doses but needed at a cellular level for all animals…"  
"Vampires can't handle it. Not from plants at least. They seem to be able to process small quantities of it if it's in human blood, but in garlic? Not a chance,"  
"So we found a cure then?"  
"Yes and no,"

Maarten groaned.  
"Stop being so cryptic and get to the point before I break your neck,"  
"Does that mean you're still thirsty?"

"Of course I'm still thirsty, I'm always thirsty…." He trailed off. No he wasn't. In fact; it was gone.

Erik smirked knowingly.  
"What was in that?"  
"Insulin, sodium, folic acid, sulfur, zinc and magnesium. And a little water too of course,"  
"So this… Is the cure?" Maarten stared at his own hands, as if he hoped he would suddenly turn human again.  
"Cure and cure. It stops the craving and isn't addictive like blood is. So it means you won't go crazy like our patients have done,"

"So, blood has addictive substances?"  
"Yes," Erik flipped a page in his book "from what I could find the globulin, dopamine, glycerol and copper in blood is what makes them go wild…"  
"Okay, the first three make sense, but copper?"  
"I suppose the metallic taste is different to vampires in some sense," Erik shrugged "I still have more research to do,"  
"But what about the dose of mercury, iron and insulin that caused one of my experiments to die?"  
"Too much mercury is lethal to anyone…" Erik rolled his eyes "However, I've found that if you want to cause them harm or immobilise them; calcium, iron and selenium is the way to do it, "

"So feed them garlic milk?"  
"Almost," Erik hid a smile.  
"But the drug you gave me. It stills the craving?" This was at least progress from his own serum that only made it tolerable.  
"For about six hours. At least at the current dose. Both Francis, Veronique and Halldór reported they lasted six hours on it. However, you're not quite like them," Erik hummed "yet," he added.  
"Yes thank you for the reminder," Maarten sneered.

"I figure you might just need one injection every twelve hours. Give or take an hour or two of course,"  
"I'll tell you when I feel the hunger gain. Thank you," the last words were mumbled, but Erik caught them.

Maarten jutted down the ingredients Erik and mentioned.  
It wasn't a cure.  
But it was a substitute.  
A way to continue to keep his humanity without murder or going crazy.

Now all he had to do was find Mircea and punch the living (or dead) day lights out of him.  
It brought a smile to Maarten's lips.

Not a monster.  
Not a human.  
Not a daemon.  
Not an angel.

He was walking a path in the middle, and he swore he would find say to return to the correct side.  
And if he didn't…

Well; he would just have to exterminate every vampire within the shadows as revenge.

—-


	4. Chapter 4

"I'm telling you, Mircea isn't here!" The vampire hissed at him.  
"Then maybe you should tell me where he is?" Maarten pressed his gun against the vampires chest and smirked "trust me when I say you won't survive if you don't,"  
"I don't know where he is!"  
"Liar," Maarten frowned and pulled the trigger, a look of disgust on his face as the vampire slumped lifeless to the floor.

"Useless," he grumbled as the vampire's body crumbled into dust.  
Another dead end.  
But one vampire less in the world.

Small steps, he reminded himself. Small steps.  
One less creature in this world was a step forward.

Maarten sighed, his thirst was building up again.  
Which meant he was going to call it a day.

Both his leads on Mircea had been dead ends; no help to be found in solving this puzzle.  
Erik was trying to find a better drug, while also attempting to figure out why Mircea had turned his brother.  
His old friend was seemingly impossible to contact, a fact that had only made Maarten worried.

Mircea was planning something. But what?  
He didn't know how far he could trust Francis, because while he had been helpful and upheld his part of the deal - Maarten couldn't help shake off the feeling that Francis knew more than he let on.  
Halldór could say what he wanted; Maarten didn't trust any vampire.  
He barely trusted other humans.

With heavy steps, Maarten made his way back to the mansion; almost glad to step within the doors and hear voices.  
He had gotten used to silence and being alone when he took up witch hunting (and then eventually vampire hunting), people seldom wanted to hang out with a killer. Even if said killer was doing a public service.  
But now everything was on its head.

He was suddenly living with five others. Two humans and three vampires. With the addition of six vampires locked up in the basement. It was surreal and hard to wrap his mind around it all.  
On one hand he wanted to kill all of them; ensure there was nothing but dust left.  
However; he needed Erik and his pharmacology skills. If he killed Halldór then Erik wouldn't forgive him, and then he would likely go mad and wild too quickly. The serum was doing wonders. Maarten couldn't afford to lose it now.

And Francis, for all his flamboyance and jokes, was a vital piece in the puzzle of information.  
He had admitted to being at least five hundred years old. If not a little older.  
"I forget," he had shrugged "you live one century and then another, and suddenly time just doesn't matter,"  
Halldór had looked terribly uncomfortable when Francis had spoken about being immortal.

"I'll watch my brother die, won't I?" He had asked softly when Erik was out of earshot.  
"Unless Maarten here kills you before that… Yes," Francis had not smiled, instead he had gazed out the window silently for a while.  
"Just don't give me a reason to kill you and I won't," Maarten had mumbled.  
"It's not all bad living forever!" Veronique had interjected with, putting on a smile that to Maarten looked all too forced.  
"You'll still have us!"

"But… How do you keep on living when people around you die?"  
Halldór pulled at the buttons on his shirt and looked around nervously. "I mean, it's great to know you guys are here. But… Erik. No one can replace him,"  
"He's your older brother. Even if you had remained human he would most likely die before you," Maarten said bluntly and took a swig of his beer.

"What?" He said when he noticed they were all staring at him.  
"Have you not got someone close to you?" Veronique whispered.  
"Someone who you couldn't bare to see suffer?"

Maarten froze.

"He clearly does," Francis said softly, tapping his fingernails against his wineglass.

Shit, Maarten thought; feeling too warm and uncomfortable.  
"A lover? A sibling?" France smiled softly.  
"That's none of your business," Maarten narrowed his eyes and glared.  
"It just might be soon enough. If you hold someone dear, what's to say that Mircea doesn't know?"

Maarten felt his blood drain from his face and his vision go blurry.  
His sister.  
He hadn't thought that she might be in danger.

"I…I need to go," he stammered forward as he tried to stand up. However; his legs refused to work, and if it haven't been for Francis and Halldór coming to his aid - he would have crashed to the floor.  
"Sit," Francis ordered. "You are in no state to do anything,"  
"But I need to warn her,"  
"Warn who?" Veronique asked and gave him a concerned look.

"My sister," Maarten whispered, not caring if the three vampires were on his side or not.

"Sister?" Halldór looked between Francis and Veronique.

"Anika de Vries," Cecilé said as she entered the room with a stack of paper.  
"A small town restaurant owner. Recently married a certain rich man.."

"What!?" Maarten was in his feet so fast Francis and Halldór had to jump to ensure he didn't fall flat on his face.  
"Do you not send cards?" She looked at him disapprovingly as she flipped through the papers "Honestly, you're as bad with people as Erik. He would isolate himself from me if I didn't remind him from time to time that couples are supposed to be around one another sometimes…"

"How do you know who she is?" Maarten asked, wringing his arms free from Francis and Halldór's grip.  
"Oh please. Do you think I'm just here to be Erik's pretty looking secretary?" Cecilé glared up at him over the brim of her glasses, "I have the right contacts to find out everyone's birth details and criminal records if I so wish,"  
"I don't doubt it," Francis chuckled.  
"But married?"

Maarten wanted nothing more than to sprint out the mansion right this very moment, but something about the stack of papers in Cecile's hands told him he should wait and listen.  
"To Arthur Kirkland," Cecilé handed him the copy of the marriage certificate, and Maarten was sure his blood froze in his veins.  
The whole room fell silent as he simply stared at the document.

"At least we found Arthur…?" Halldór tried, but the glare Maarten shot him sent him back in to silence.  
Six months.  
His sister had been married for six months.  
And he had not noticed.  
Or known.

Maarten felt sick.  
Sick, angry and dizzy.  
"My sister… Married a black magic enthusiast?"  
"More like she married one of the richest and most influential business men in Britain. But sure… I suppose you could also call him a black magic enthusiast," Cecilé shrugged.  
"We found him at least," Veronique smiled.  
"But what's the next step?" Halldór asked, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. "Are we just going to ask him if he's seen Mircea lately?"

"He either won't have or will have, and won't tell us…" Francis scratched his chin and let Maarten stumbled forward to peer at the rest of the papers Cecilé held.  
"I don't like this at all…" Maarten grumbled "I feel like a cog in some great big machine…"  
"Or a line in some master play," Francis sighed.

"But there has to be a link? This can't all be a coincidence can it?" Veronique bit her lip and looked around at the others.  
"True," Cecilé nodded "at this stage I think we are all just pieces on Mircea's chess set…"  
"But what links us together?" Halldór scratched his head "beyond Maarten that is…."

Everyone froze and stared at him.  
"Maarten is our only common link right now…right?" Halldór swallowed nervously.  
"Beyond Erik's dabble with the magic club at school, everything comes down to you Maarten…"  
"But I caught you by pure luck or accident… It could have been any other vampire instead of you," Maarten felt like he was treading water with lead boots on. Slowly sinking beneath cold waves.  
"You're a hunter. You would have gotten to him eventually…" Francis mused.

"But I could have killed him. Mircea couldn't predict I would capture vampires to experiment on them… Could he?"

The silence that filled the room was so stifling Maarten wasn't sure he could breathe properly.

"There's one thing that does't fit…" Cecilé cleared her throat, "and that's the time frame…"  
"Oh?" Francis looked intrigued.  
"Halldór was turned five years ago. Maarten, you said you began witch hunting when you were twenty one, and went over to vampire hunting five years later. You were turned a little under a year ago…"  
"Mircea turned Halldór about the same time you started hunting vampires," Francis added, doing the rough mental math.  
"And let's not forget that Erik is 32 this year and graduated when he was 23… So he left university to start this business about the same time you began your witch hunting career…" Cecilé bit her lip.

"Maarten wasn't a threat to Mircea or us until five years ago…" Francis mumbled and sank down into his chair.  
"Could Mircea have been planning something big for over fourteen years… Or more?" Halldór asked worriedly.  
"Who knows," Francis shrugged "When you live forever you've got plenty of time to perfect some grand master plan,"

"I don't know about you all… But I'm scared," Halldór muttered.  
"Me too…" Veronique nodded in agreement.  
"Well, we are six against one possibly two people," Francis chuckled lightheartedly and smiled, "Surely we have the upper hand?"  
"We can hope," Cecilé shuddered.

"Seven," Erik said as he entered the room with another man in tow, "we have seven people to our team,"

Maarten stared at the man standing behind Erik. There as something familiar yet oddly alien about the man, and it wasn't just the white hair and red eyes.  
"Gilbert?!" Francis rushed to greet the man so quickly Maarten swore he had moved like a blur.  
"The one and only," the man grinned and Maarten caught the glimmer of fangs.  
Vampire.

"Another one?" He hissed.  
"One of our patients actually," Erik coughed "do you not recognise him?"  
"Our little experiments are malformed and twisted monsters,"  
"Not after a long treatment dose of our serum…"

Maarten stared at the newest addition to their little group.  
Another vampire.  
Another monster who now presented himself so human it was hard to believe the two had been the same.

"You two know one another?" Cecilé stepped closer to Erik as she regarded the two vampires.

"Gilbert and I go far back," Francis smiled.  
"We faught in the crusades together," the white haired vampire added with a grin.  
"Ah yes, good times," Francis got a far away look in his eyes "no one cares how you kill someone in war as long as you appear to take sides,"  
"And no one notices that you don't age when your comrades are changed out every week or so," Gilbert smirked.

"Fascinating, I'm sure," Maarten rolled his eyes, "Erik, why have you released him?"  
"Because he has information,"  
"Well he could have just told you what he knows instead of you letting him loose," Maarten hissed.  
"Calm down," Gilbert laughed "I'm not going to cause trouble,"

"I wasn't talking to you, vampire," Maarten hissed and turned his attention back to Erik.  
"Are you even thinking? You and Cecilé are the only people here who are fully humans here,"  
"I am aware of that," Erik crossed his arms.  
"And yet you let another vampire free?"  
"It's my home and this battle is just as much mine as yours,"

Maarten opened his mouth to say something else, but everyone's eyes were on him now and something about their expression was making him uneasy. This was not the kind of attention he wanted at all.  
"We will speak later then," he hissed under his breath.

"Gilbert," Francis tapped the man in the shoulder "what happened to you?"  
"Oh, you know, nothing much," he laughed,  
"You've been missing for a good fifteen years…" Francis looked concerned.  
"There's a virus of sorts going around…" Erik cut in "it's probably existed for a long time, but it appears to be what causes vampires to become so wild,"  
"I thought it was because we drank too much blood," Veronique looked a little anxious.  
"It's possibly partly due to that," Erik nodded.

"Oh…." Francis swallowed nervously and embraced Gilbert.  
"I got a bit too greedy I think. And then suddenly I felt like I couldn't control myself…" Gilbert looked utterly ashamed.  
"You should have asked for help,"  
"By the time I realised, it was too late,"

"So now we have some kind if vampire flu going around?" Maarten crossed his arms, this was not a direction he had anticipated.  
"I think it stems from the build up of calcium and iron. Vampires can't process it, and if they get too much of it their body starts to try to place the excess minerals other places," Erik explained slowly.  
"Explains the hideous appearance," Maarten smirked.  
"Behave," Cecilé elbowed him hard in the side and frowned. He hadn't even noticed her sneak up on him.  
Maarten had to admire the stealth of someone who could be so silent in heels.

Then again, she was about half his height; which had led him to on numerous occasions almost tripping over her (which had equal parts annoyed her and amused Erik).

"The good thing is that with our research we can give vampires the nutrition they need without the things that make them addicted or unwell," Erik smiled a little triumphantly.  
"Great. So now we're also making vampire vitamins?"  
"If you don't like my work you can go back do doing your own research in your own little office," Erik sneered angrily.  
Maarten shuddered at the thought of having to drink the drug again.  
"No thank you,"  
"Then shut up and listen to the rest of the people in here,"

Maarten grumbled and stuffed his hands in his pockets, he had a strong urge to smash Erik's nose in again, but there were currently four vampires who would surely take his side. So he would just have to let it go for now.

"I'm not sure of Mircea's current whereabouts," Gilbert said and smiled slyly "But I know where his main house is and I think I might know a little piece of the puzzle. Hell," Gilbert laughed "I might just solve your little mystery."


	5. Chapter 5

"Mircea isn't the guy to talk about his past, not in details at least," Gilbert began "Erik only knew he was from Romania and that he was rich, any other information was likely just made up…"  
"Let's not go into what lies he told me, we will be here for years…" Erik grumbled, as Cecilé placed a hand over his, smiling softly to calm him.

"While Francis and I go way back and have more or less forgotten how old we are, neither of us are sure if Mircea is older or younger than us. He could be about the same age, but we've never managed to pinpoint his age or when he became a vampire," Gilbert frowned "but what I do know is that he had a brother at some point,"  
"So we're dealing with Mircea and his family?" Halldór asked.  
"No," Gilbert shook his head "I think he wants his brother back, but that's all I know,"  
"Back?" Maarten scratched his chin.

"Did you kill him?" Erik looked at Maarten "is that why you're in this mess?"  
"Maybe I did, but I don't know. I've killed a good few vampires. I don't exactly note down their name and number before I kill them,"  
"You should," Francis chuckled "a little black book of vampires,"  
"I'd rather have a book to note down how many I've killed,"

"Play nice now you two," Cecilé rolled her eyes.  
"I think his brother died long before you ever started this business of killing us," Gilbert grumbled "So for once we can't blame all this misery on you,"  
Maarten was about to stand up and stab the cocky vampire with his bottle of beer, but a stern glare from Cecilé told him to leave it be.

"So Mircea wants his brother back… That kind of explains the magic club he started at university," Erik ran a hand through his blond hair and sighed "And it explains his interest in necromancy…"  
"I though you were joking about the whole 'rising the dead' thing," Halldór whispered.  
"Reanimate in of the dead, attempts at summoning daemons, possession… Name it and Arthur has probably tried it," Erik sighed and rubbed his temples. "You wouldn't believe how many times we had to clean up organs from the ceiling and walls after another one of his attempt went wrong…"

"I…. Don't think I want to know," Francis edged a little further away from Erik.  
"I do," Maarten and Gilbert said in unison, sending one another a glare.

"After dinner maybe," Erik smirked, flinching ever so slightly when Cecilé slapped the back of his head lightly.

"So Mircea wanted a sorcerer of sorts and a pharmacologist in his little club. He clearly wanted to raise the dead in some form or another, which explains Arthur. But you don't fit into the equation…" Francis hummed.  
"Unless you're not telling us something…." Maarten tapped his fingers against his leg.  
"I'm a pharmacologist! I make and research medication. Honestly, nothing else,"  
"You're good at reading ancient languages," Cecilé added "but beyond that? You're not magically inclined as far as I know…"

"Well I studied those…" Erik muttered.  
"So Mircea must have wanted you for something… But not magic," Maarten muttered under his breath. This was just turning into one large muddle of loose stings.

"The power of three…" Veronique piped up.  
"In magic, there are certain numbers that reappear again and again. Three, nine and twelve are often magical numbers in various spells,"

"How do you know this?" Francis was staring at her in disbelief and awe.  
"I used to be part of a coven…" Veronique smiled sheepishly and tried to laugh it off.  
"But why Erik?" Cecilé asked, not that bothered by the revelation "If he needed three people for something then why him? Why not someone who knows magic?"

"Could it be… That Mircea regards Erik as a modern magician?" Gilbert asked after a moment of silence had passed between them all.  
"Oh," Cecilé let out a breath and stared wide eyed at Erik, "That sounds plausible!"  
"What we call science now used to be magic," Francis added with a nod.  
"This is still all just speculation. I say we find Mircea and just beat him till he tells us the truth. Or better yet; rid ourselves off him," Maarten huffed.

"We have a few leads of his whereabouts now, but I don't think we can afford to rush forwards," Francis looked around the room, "after all, we might have to worry about the safety of your sister too…"  
"I will happily march in there and kidnap her away from Arthur if I have to,"  
"Maybe that's what they want though?" Cecilé squeezed Erik's hand as she said it.  
"Yes. We can't be brash or quick. Mircea hasn't been around for centuries for nothing, and I highly doubt Arthur got to where he is today simply by his parents means," Francis looked at Gilbert with concern as he spoke, and Maarten once more wonders if perhaps Francis was hiding something.

"Let's rest," Cecilé suggests with a smile "Tomorrow we can continue this… I'll look up any more information on Anika and Arthur if there is any, meanwhile the rest of you can split into groups and see if Mircea may be at the few places we know about,"

Maarten didn't have any other choice but to agree.

He went to his room with more questions than answers and a horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach that everyone was hiding something for him.

—-

Maarten awoke the next day to a note from Erik that he would be in the lab if he needed him.  
Cecilé was nowhere to be found until he realised she had left the mansion to chase up her contacts for more information.  
Efficient the pair of them, he had to give them that.

However; this meant it was just him and the vampires.  
Brilliant, he thought bitterly.  
He could kill them all.  
They were all still sleeping; it would be easy.  
Maarten knew that.  
But as he walked past Halldór's room, he realised he couldn't.

He needed them. At least for the time being.  
Don't be selfish. Don't do anything stupid.  
If he wanted Anika alive and well, he would have to accept that this wasn't a battle for one.  
And as much as he wanted to kill every vampire out there, a small part of him worried that soon he would end up having to kill someone he actually liked.

Grumbling and muttering curses to himself, Maarten found his morning medication and some breakfast.  
As he ate, he peered at the newspaper.  
No reports of any mystical deaths of any kind.

That was partly calming and worrisome at once.  
No deaths mean no vampire activity.  
But if there were no vampires out and about, where were they?  
Why were they laying low?

The answers his mind gave him were all too unpleasant.  
He almost wanted someone to be bitten just so he had a reason to go out and shoot something.  
Maarten knew he was on edge. He knew he needed to calm down.  
But there were too many unknown factors for him to feel like he had the upper hand.  
For all they knew, they could all be dancing perfectly in tune to Mircea's flute.

"Still getting up with the humans?" Francis asked from the doorway, not stepping into the sun filled kitchen.  
"I like to try to keep my humanity in as many ways a possible,"  
"We are not all monsters," Francis reminded him.

"No. You are demons under a veil of human skin," Maarten sneered.  
"Far from it," Francis chuckled, snapping his fingers and smirking as the curtains in the kitchen drew themselves.  
"I still enjoy the same thing is as any human would. Only my tastebuds have evolved a little further,"  
"So you think humans like to kill other humans?"  
"Not at all. Well, I think you can argue humans enjoy killing more than I do. I actually enjoy keeping humans alive,"  
"But you kill them for their blood?"

"Oh no. Not often," Francis chuckled as he took a seat opposite the table for Maarten.  
"Then how have you been getting you blood?"  
"You are familiar with bloodletting, are you not?"  
"An ancient 'art' of removing blood to heal various illnesses. Still used today for some things; yes I am aware. I didn't get my doctorate for nothing," Maarten tapped his fingers against the table and wondered if Erik would notice if he lit up his pipe inside.  
"Precisely, for most of my life I've been traveling around as a healer. A few litres of blood here and there don't do people much harm," Francis smiled.

"That's not a procedure you can do easily today though…" Maarten frowned.  
"Oh no. Of course not," Francis smiled "These days I do blood donation instead. It's very easy to get one of those uniforms when you have charm like me,"  
Maarten wasn't sure if he should be in awe or disgust at Francis and his ideas.  
He wanted to commend him for at least not killing people, but the idea that a vampire was going around and collecting blood donations on his own behalf was a little creepy.  
"Ever thought that other humans could need that blood?"

"Oh please," Francis laughed "think of it this way: I do a blood donation run and see about twenty people. Each person gives me just a litre. I only need a litre a day to still the craving, so that means I only need to take blood once every twenty days or so. And since it's so little, people don't suffer at all. No one dies this way,"  
Maarten tapped his fingers against the table and grumbled. Francis had a point.  
He hated when Francis had a point.  
"Even you can't argue that this isn't a good way," he chuckled and Maarten gripped his cup to stop himself from breaking the table.

"I'd prefer it if you didn't take blood at all,"  
"Well Erik is working on making that possible,"  
"Can't wait…"

He watched Francis intently, trying to understand the vampire.

"You said you and Gilbert fought in the crusades… How did you become a vampire?"  
"Such information is for friends only," Francis winked at him with a smile.  
"Fine. Was just trying to make conversation," Maarten grumbled.

"Unlikely. I am well aware how much you hate us. However, if you have to know I was always a vampire,"  
"You are one of the….originals?"  
"We tend to refer to ourselves as the Nobel elite, but yes, I am one of the originals so to speak,"  
"Is Gilbert one too?"  
"Oh no. He owes his vampirism to me," Francis smirked.  
"Owe is perhaps the wrong word," Maarten's muttered.  
"He had the option to die or join me. I can assure you he chose it out of his own free will,"  
"Well aren't you just a hero," he rolled his eyes, Francis spoke as if being a vampire was some kind of gift - Maarten thought it a curse.

"At the time, yes, I was," Francis looked offended, his warm smile gone and in it's place was a stern and cold expression.  
"Choosing to be a vampire? Gilbert must be more insane than I first thought,"  
"Do not belittle his choices. You do not know his story nor his life,"  
"I know he chose to become a monster," Maarten sneered "that's all I need to know,"  
"Then maybe you are the monster here,"

Maarten bit his tongue and held his breath.  
It was hard to hold back.  
He wanted to smash Francis face against the table, but he kept telling himself that was not the right way to do things. Yet.

"Me? A monster? Certainly not by choice," he hissed out instead between gritted teeth.  
"You're more of a monster than you think then… You seem to forget that we are not all mindless killers. We have family, friends and a life, and we care for those close to us a lot better than you seem to care for yours,"

The words stung hard, and Maarten fell speechless.  
"I do care for my sister…" He managed to mutter.  
"Do you really?"  
"Of course,"  
"But you failed to know she got married?"  
"I have been busy with this curse," he hissed angrily at Francis.  
"You can not call it a curse when it's not what stops you from seeing your sister. You were bitten, yes; but beyond that? Oh no, the rest of this is all your own making,"

Maarten clenched his fists and gritted his teeth, his own sharp fangs drawing blood from the inside of his lip.  
"I care for her,"  
"Fine. Let's pretend you do. But what about the rest? Erik and Cecilé? Do you like them because they are human only?"  
"They are valuable friends,"  
"But how far does your friendship go Maarten? If they were to be turned tomorrow, would you still protect them like you do now?"

"Are you… Are you threatening me?" Maarten felt as if the whole room stood still in time.

"Not at all. I like Erik and Cecilé. Especially Cecilé, she is a fine woman," Francis smiled "and I would hate for them to come to any harm. But we are all in danger here. And you need to realise where you stand, because you're not walking a line between vampire and human; you're walking a line between one side and the other in this war,"  
"I am here to ensure Mircea disappears forever. That's my side,"  
"I don't think it's going to be that simple. So I suggest you think a little bit about your situation before we take any further steps," Francis stood up and ran his hands down his shirt, smoothing out the wrinkles.

Maarten heard him leave the room, but he felt like he had been nailed to the chair.  
Of course he cared for his sister, he reminded himself. She was all he had left.  
And he did care about Erik and Cecilé too. Somewhat at least, he could admit that much.

Halldór and Veronique? Who looked so young but weren't?  
Maarten sank down with his head in his hands.  
Francis knew what to say to completely unravel him, and he hated himself more than he hated Francis for it.

Fresh air.  
He needed to get out. Even for just a bit.


	6. Chapter 6

The city was bustling with life, and Maarten was enjoying the crowds.  
He still stood out, his height was far from the average; but in a large crowd he could still somewhat blend in with the rest and pretend for just a movement that he was still like everyone else.

Maarten was walking down the high street when he accidentally bumped into another man.  
"Sorry," he mumbled and turned to the man.  
But the guy was gone.  
Maarten's first instinct was to ensure he still had his wallet.  
He did.

A breath of relief escaped him and he turned around to continue down the street.  
However, something was wrong.  
The street that had been lively and ever moving; now stood still.  
No one moved.

Hesitantly, Maarten reached out to touch the shoulder of a woman by his side, but she did not budge. No movement at all.  
Her eyes unblinking. Unmoving.  
Still as a statue.  
Maarten felt his heart race.

Magic.

"Out for a walk are you?" A voice spoke in his ear, and Maarten whirled around.  
But there was no one but the frozen humans in sight.  
"Show yourself," he hissed.  
"Why should I?" The voice said, again just behind him.

"Coward," Maarten sneered and once more tried to locate the source.  
"I don't plan to hurt you, but you clearly want to hurt me, so I'll just stay here," the voice chuckled and Maarten felt a ghostly hand at the back of his neck.  
"Who are you?" He snarled. He had no patience for this.  
"My my, no need to get so angry,"  
"Tell me who you are,"  
"Good god, I've married into a right nut job family haven't I?"

Maarten felt a chill run down his spine.  
Arthur.

"The only nut job here is you," Maarten hissed.  
"Now that's no way to speak to your brother-in-law!"  
"Considering my brother-in-law is some lunatic necromancer, I have every right to speak to him however I like,"  
"Ohhh," Arthur laughed "are you that upset about missing the wedding?"  
"No, I'm upset your filthy hands ever came near my sister,"  
"They got more than near," Arthur chuckled darkly, and Maarten had not wanted to kill another human this much since a drunk man once tried to hit on his sister several times.

"What do you want with me?"  
"I just wanted to see you. I've heard so much about you you see,"  
Maarten gritted his teeth and reached under his coat for a dagger.  
He couldn't hear or see where Arthur was, but he had to be nearby.

"Well, now you've seen me. So you can let these people go on with their lives again," the fact that Arthur seemed to have frozen an entire high street of people was impressive.  
"Ah, but there was something else,"

Maarten turned around, faced with a pair of almost glowing green eyes under a dark hooded cloak.  
"I have a message for you,"  
That never bode well, Maarten thought - but he refrained from stabbing Arthur in the face (although it was definitively the thing he wanted to do).  
"I don't like messages like this…" He grumbled and tightened his hold on the dagger.  
"Mircea would like you to know that it's too late," Arthur grinned "and nothing you do will stop us,"  
"We will see about that," Maarten groaned and thrust the knife forward and straight into Arthur's stomach.

He watched in glee as Arthur's face went white and his eyes dulled.  
"Take this message back to Mircea with you," he whispered "I never give up a hunt,"

Arthur's body seemed to fade into nothing, leaving no trace behind but the blood on his dagger.  
And slowly the people around him began to move.

"Fucking necromancers," Maarten mumbled and he hid his knife from view and jumped out of the way for a passing woman.  
No way would Arthur die from that.  
Likely he had used a double of sorts.

Regardless; Maarten smirked to himself as he headed back to the mansion - now he had given a warning back.  
For all he knew, Arthur could have been bluffing.  
Mircea had clearly needed Erik for something, and Maarten had a hard time believing whatever plan Mircea was making could function properly without Erik.  
Sure, there were other pharmacologist out there - but Maarten didn't think they would do.  
Mircea had chosen Erik for reasons beyond his pharmacology skills.

Not to mention Halldór.  
If Mircea had a replacement, why bother turning Halldór?  
It didn't make sense.  
Someone was bluffing about something.

He found Erik in the grand living room alongside Cecilé, a bunch of paperwork on the table amongst empty coffee cups.  
They hadn't noticed him, and for a moment Maarten just watched them quietly.  
He could hear them mutter and whisper to one another, sliding papers back and forth.  
A note in the margin of one piece of paper, and then another.  
There was a certain fluidness and comforting repetition about their movements.

Maarten could see the attraction they had for one another.

Francis was right.  
He couldn't lie to himself.  
The people in this mansion were his friends.  
And while he didn't necessarily like admitting he had vampire friends - he could at least tell himself that the vampires here weren't all bad.

"Find anything?" He asked, enjoying the way Cecilé jumped a little in fright.  
"Yes!" She smiled and held up a piece of paper for him to read.  
Maarten took it with a half smile, which widened as he read on.  
"So we found where Arthur lives?" It was almost too good to be true.

"Yes, and added bonus is that not far from it is a place Mircea is known to occupy often. It fits nicely in with their plans,"  
"Plans?"  
"There was a third house in the same street that they originally tried to get me to buy…" Erik tapped his pen against a map where they had circled three houses.

"They form a triangle?" Maarten leaned over them to inspect the map.  
"A symmetrical one," Cecilé added with a smile "the house Arthur owns and the house Mircea owns are on a straight line. The third house lines up about halfway between the others. A perfect triangle, "  
"Suppose this isn't the place to argue for coincidences?"  
"Not likely, no," Erik chuckled "especially when you have a look at the old sewer maps for the same area,"

Maarten stared at the second map.  
"Hang on a minute… Is that a,"  
"Five pointed star, yes," Cecilé smiled "lines up perfectly with three of the houses too. Mircea and Arthur's houses on the tips and the third house situated right between the lines of the star. Which means there may be a series of underground networks connecting the houses,"  
"Fuck," Maarten muttered "that's creepy and clever,"  
"Ingenious even," Cecilé sighed.

"We don't know if the underground network is still there, but we have every reason to believe it might still be functioning in some way," Erik tapped the middle of the star "and if it is working, this here might be an underground room of sorts,"  
"Might be pretty big, " Cecilé hummed.  
"So, could these underground systems be a possible way inside the houses?" Maarten studied the map carefully.  
"We think they might," Erik smiled slightly.  
"We thought maybe you and one of the others could check it out, report back if the underground network is there and functional," Cecilé explained softly.

"Good plan. Gilbert and Francis might even know more about them, considering their age," Maarten nodded and handed the map back to Erik.  
"Veronique might also be of help," Cecilé looked thoughtful.  
"What?" Maarten didn't quite follow her thought process.  
"She's been alive for fifty years, and she used to be in a coven… A series of underground networks making a five pointed star? That sounds like something a bunch of witches would love, don't you think?"  
"Uh, yes. Sure. How on earth do you know this?"  
"We went shopping. She's very chatty," Cecilé smirked knowingly.

"I still can't get over that she's fifty…" Maarten mumbled, rubbing his temples as he tried not to think to hard about how vampires never seemed to age. Would he age? He healed faster, so somewhere in the back of his mind he didn't think he would age. Or at least not age much.  
What a weird thought.  
He was about as immortal as vampires.  
He could hunt them forever.

The idea brought him some peace of mind.

"Are the others awake yet?" Maarten shifted his weight from one foot to the other.  
"Think so, why?" Erik asked  
"I've got news…"  
"Great. Is it good news?" Cecilé looked worried all of a sudden.  
"Kinda,"

"I'll go get them then," Erik stood up and left the room, which left Cecilé to look at Maarten with a bewildered expression.  
"Is everything okay?" She whispered, and Maarten felt a sting of guilt. She hadn't known him for long, but yet she still worried.  
"Yeah. Don't worry," he shrugged, making a mental note to be better in the future.  
They deserved better.  
All of them.

Maarten and Cecilé had just finished shutting all the curtains when Erik returned with the four vampires in tow.

"I hear there is news?" Francis took a seat in the sofa and smiled.  
"Yes, how's this for a little "lead"?" Maarten grinned and tossed the bloodstained dagger over to him, which Francis caught with almost impossible grace.  
"Fucking hell," Gilbert let out a breath and licked his lips "that smells dangerous, can I lick it?"  
"No," Francis pushed Gilbert's head out of the way.

"Spoil sport," Maarten heard Gilbert mutter.  
"Who on earth did you kill?" Francis asked, a little concern present in his voice as he stared at the dagger.  
"Just a necromancers by the name of Arthur. Not the best introduction to my brother-in-law…" Maarten shrugged, trying not to smirk too much.  
"You killed Arthur?" Halldór looked utterly petrified.  
"Doubt a knife to his gut would kill a necromancer," Maarten said and rolled his eyes "but at least he now knows I'm not playing by their rules alone,"

"Well there goes any plans of being sneaky," Erik grumbled.  
"Shut up. He was playing games with me. I don't like games,"  
"Wow. Never would have guessed," Halldór muttered under his breath, which made Veronique giggle.

"Now, now. Let's not fight," Cecilé stood up and glared at them all in turn. Maarten had to admire how someone so short could make everyone else feel small. It was rather impressive.  
"Arthur knows about Maarten, but we still don't know how far their knowledge stretches,"  
"True. Mircea might not know of our alliance here," Francis hummed, still holding the bloodied dagger.  
"Even if he's a necromancer, that's going to take a while to heal," Gilbert added "so now whatever their plan is, it might be delayed,"

"Arthur mentioned that nothing I did could stop them, but that was before I rammed my knife into him, so…"  
"Definitely an unforeseen setback," Francis chuckled.  
"Well we've discovered there's a series of underground sewers under the houses Arthur and Mircea own," Erik unrolled the maps for the rest to see.  
"Ohhh," Veronique made a noise of delight and leant over the map.

"You recognise it?" Maarten looked hopeful.  
"Yes and no," she frowned "I've never been down there, but there is a few others like it in other cities,"  
"Are they used for anything….supernatural?" Cecilé inquired, pen at the ready to jot down anything important.  
"They are great for summoning and performing rituals. While witches prefer to do anything in nature, it's nice to have a back up place within a city as well," Veronique explained with a smile "they also serve as great meeting places to meditate and recharge your crystals at,"

"So these places are magical?" Erik leaned over to see what Cecilé was writing.  
"They're not necessarily magic in themselves, but they make it easier to draw magic to you,"  
"So a gathering place for magic energy?" Cecilé tapped her pen against the a paper and looked thoughtful.  
"Yes," Veronique nodded.

"So, what we know so far is that Mircea wants a necromancers and a pharmacologist slash scientist…" Cecilé said, trying to make sencee of what they knew "he also wants his brother back, who we know to be dead. And they have a base of sorts above a place known to be used to gather magical energy. I think it's reasonable to assume he is trying to raise the dead,"  
"But why all this elaborate planning? Why does he need such specific things?" Gilbert asked, eyeing the dagger in Francis' hand.

"Good point," Francis nodded before slowly placing the dagger down onto the table "necromancy seldom requires such long planning process…."

"It does if you want it to last…" Erik said, looking a little uncomfortable when everyone's eyes were on him.  
"Explain," Maarten demanded  
"Well, when Arthur was practising necromancy at our little "club", he sometimes succeeded in reanimating the dead. But they never lasted long. Mircea did once mention you needed more than one necromancer to keep someone alive… So, maybe that's why he needed me and this giant magical gathering place?"

Silence fell over them all, no one dare speak.

"Suppose that maybe rules out him wanting to raise and undead army," Gilbert tried to jokingly suggest.  
"His brother. He wants his brother back… And he's clearly going to do do anything it takes," Cecilé whispered.

"I can't tell if that's really sweet or ridiculously creepy," Veronique coughed.

"Bit of both I suppose…" Erik glanced over at Halldór, and Maarten had a feeling he knew what he was thinking.  
It gave him a horrible sinking feeling; Mircea wanted his bother back - and he wasn't going to let anything stop him.  
And slowly it dawned on Maarten that Mircea and Erik were much the same.

The love they had for their family wasn't going to stop at death.  
Erik hadn't cared that Halldór was a vampire, he hadn't cared that his little brother was a monster.  
All Erik had cared about was that he was back.

Mircea was likely the same.

The guilt in him grabbed him by the heart and wrung it around.  
He loved his sister. He did.  
But up until now, he hadn't though he would spare her if she turned.  
Hell, he still wasn't sure.  
Maarten wanted to think he would.  
He hoped he would.

But deep down he was praying that he would never have to find out of his love stretched that far.

-

[A.N:  
For those of you who don't know.  
Maarten = Netherlands  
Mircea = Romania  
Erik = Norway  
Halldór = Iceland  
Cecilé = Monaco  
Veronique = Seychelles

sorry for any confusion ]


	7. Chapter 7

Maarten taps his fingers anxiously against the table, hoping no one notices. But deep down he knows they do. They know him well enough by now – even if he rather wishes they didn't.  
The plan is to break into the underground networks to see if they can find the room where they believe Mircea might be. Or find the secret entrances to Arthur and Mircea's houses.

The plan is to just gather information.  
But there are too many unknown factors.  
There are too many possibilities of what could be down there.  
And Maarten isn't sure he likes it. 

His sister is also still in Arthur's home. Whether she knows about Arthur's life as a necromancer is another thing all together – but surely she can't have missed that her husband has been stabbed.  
Which leaves Arthur to either tell her a lie or tell her the truth.  
Neither option is good.

"We know there's a set of stairs here," Francis points to a point on the map, a small alleyway between two larger houses "But getting down might be tricky,"  
"At night we're harder to spot," Veronique adds "However; Halldór and I are smaller, we will have more luck getting down to the sewer system via the other entrance," she circles the second entrance with her pen.

"If there are any traps anywhere down there though…" Gilbert frowns deeply, gone is all his jokes and smiles – and in their place is a battle-hardy and experienced soldier.  
Maarten can't help but be thankful right now.

"Are you sure we can't help?" Erik asks.  
"No, you're staying right here. We don't need vulnerable humans," Gilbert grumbles. "You're too fragile," he adds with a huff.  
"I'm not sure if I should be offended by that or not…" Erik looks puzzled.  
"Mircea wants you for something. So it's better you stay here anyway," Francis elaborates with a smile, trying to diffuse the situation a little.

Maarten goes over the plan his head.  
Three groups.  
Francis and Gilbert, Halldór and Veronique, and himself.  
He likes working on his own.  
And should either of the others be noticed, they can claim to not know him and get away.

The less Mircea knows about them all, the better.

The less Mircea knows at all, the better.

He sharpens his knives, readies the crossbow and makes sure he's got enough bullets.  
Erik has made him some that are filled with selenium, iron and calcium in various strengths.  
That way he only has to hit them once to immobilise them.  
One bullet is all he needs to bring a vampire to its knees.

This changes so much.  
It gives him the upper hand.  
He can win.

But win what? A voice in the back of his mind whispers.  
He wants revenge.  
Yet there are doubts.  
As much as he hates Mircea for what he's done.  
As much as he hates Arthur for taking his sister.  
Maarten can't shake the feeling that the bigger picture is much more than what he can see.

"Ready to go?" Francis asks him from the doorway, and Maarten nods.  
As ready as he can be.

He swallows nervously when Halldór and Veronique drift away from them, heading down another road. He knows they are older than they look.  
He knows they can handle themselves.  
He knows they can't really die like humans do.  
But he still worries.

He's worried about vampires. Not that they will attack him.  
No.  
Maarten is worried about the safety of vampires.  
It's an alien feeling and it feels wrong.  
Yet it's right.

It's right to worry.

Francis and Gilbert split away from him a few blocks further down, and Maarten finds himself alone all over again.  
It's what he's used to.  
It's what he wanted.  
But right now his mind keeps worrying about everyone else.

Is it right to leave Erik and Cecilé alone?  
Will they be okay?  
Maarten feels his muscles tense as he gets closer to the underground entrance.  
"Nothing to fear," he mumbles to himself as he peers down the manhole.  
It's only darkness below.  
But he's used to darkness.  
Nothing down there can harm him.

The underground network is larger than he imagined, and Maarten can't help but feel uneasy as he wanders down the stone corridors.  
His footsteps echo, and even when he slows down and tiptoes as best he can; he simply can not be as silent as he wishes he could.

"No fucking point even trying," he mutters to himself.  
"Then why come all the way here?" a familiar voice asks and Maarten stares ahead into the darkness.  
"To punch your fucking fangs out," Maarten sneered as Mircea walked into view, a smirk present on the vampires face that Maarten would love to wipe off.

"Oh, such eagerness. I like that," Mircea almost purred, circling Maarten like a predator.  
"I'm not here to play your fucking games,"  
"But this isn't a game any more, now is it?"  
"No…" Maarten replied after a moment, "It's not,"

"Then why pretend?" Mircea laughed.  
"I was hoping to do this with as little blood as possible," Maarten mumbled, keeping his eyes on Mircea the whole time.

"Somehow I doubt that too," Mircea chuckled in reply, coming to a halt and and gesturing towards the dark tunnel "But since you've come this far, let me show you something,"

"You first," Maarten grumbled, wondering if he could shoot Mircea in the back – however; his curiosity could not be stilled, he wanted to know.  
"Leave your weapons behind first then,"  
"Weapons?"  
"You're armed to the teeth, pun intended," Mircea laughed "I know you're not down here without some kind of protection,"

Maarten grimaced, but slowly undid his gun holsters, placing them on the ground before removing two of his daggers – the only ones visible.  
He might just get away with leaving the crossbow, guns and two daggers behind.  
It leaves him with four other daggers – just in case.

"Happy now?" He frowned, tempted to throw one dagger straight into Mircea's face.  
"Much happier," Mircea smiles, "Arthur told me those daggers of yours hurt a lot,"  
"That was the intended purpose of them, yes," he rolls his eyes.

"Tch," Mircea spits and walks off into the darkness, Maarten following a few steps behind – almost glad how much his night-vision has improved after being bitten.  
He can't help but notice how much more silent Mircea is; how much more like a cat he moves.  
And surely, he can move without a sound.

It makes him feel uneasy as they walk further and further into the darkness of the underground, his steps the only thing that makes a noise – safe for the occasional drip of water.  
Occasionally the ceiling lowers, and Maarten finds he has to bend to continue walking – he hears Mircea snicker the first few times; and he's sure he's leading him down smaller passages on purpose.

None the less; he's happy once he can stand to his full height again.  
Although the room he's now in is far from what he would have called pleasant.

"What the hell?" Maarten stares at the numerous shelves of books and glass jars filled with creatures so strange he's certain half of them are not even real.  
Or went extinct a good thousand years ago.

"Do you like my collection?" Mircea grins and gestures to the shelves.  
"Not really no…" Maarten grimaces, as he studies one jar's contents. "It's pretty vile…"  
"It's unique!"  
"Yeah well aren't you just a special little snowflake of a vampire then," Maarten rolls his eyes, praying whatever it is in the jar won't suddenly come alive. It looks rather poisonous.

Mircea puffs out his cheeks before sighing deeply. He looks offended, Maarten thinks a little smugly.  
"It's wasted on young kids like you," he grumbles.  
"Mhm…" Maarten hums as he walks along the book shelves. Erik would have a field day down here he concludes. As would Veronique. Possibly even Cecilé.

He halts as he reaches halfway around the room, his attention on Mircea who is leaning over a wooden crate.  
Although as he steps closer he realises it's not a crate.

It's a coffin.

Maarten holds his breath as he steps closer, surprised to see a glass lid covering the coffin.  
The contents is what surprises him the most.

Bones.

Nothing but bones.

A horrible sinking feeling settles in the pit of his stomach once more.  
This is Mircea's brother? He asks himself, but he gets his answer.  
Mircea is standing perfectly still, one hand splayed across the glass – and there are more emotions on display here and now than Maarten has ever seen before.

"I will have him back," Mircea whispers. "And nothing you do will change that,"  
"Maybe something should stay as they are?"

He takes a step back when Mircea disappears from one side of the coffin, appearing far too close for comfort on the other side, baring his fangs up at him.

"You try living so long without your loved ones," Mircea spits  
"Well you seem to have given me that fucking opportunity now haven't you," Maarten growls in return.  
"I can make your sister live forever too, if you so wish it,"  
"Not at all. You will stay the fuck away from her,"  
"Then you will soon know my pain," Mircea threatens.

Maarten feels his hands curl into fists, and he wants to punch Mircea so hard. 

"At least I'll keep my sanity," Maarten growls instead, trying to keep his own feelings at bay the best he can.  
"Sanity? You think I'm insane?" there's a bitter laugh following that makes Maarten sweat.  
"You're certainly not sane,"  
"Maybe after a couple of centuries you will understand, I think you'll turn out just like me if I give you time,"  
"Maybe I'll kill myself before I become anything like you,"

Mircea snorts and pokes Maarten's chest with a sharp nail.  
"We're more alike than you think,"  
"I consider us nothing alike at all, so I suppose I can agree we might have some similarities," Maarten shrugs "I'm pretty sure we're both male now that you mention it…"

There's a moment of silence, before Mircea bursts out laughing, leaning back on the coffin to heave for air.  
"Fuck," he wheezes "I never thought you to be a joker,"  
"You should have just kept drinking instead of biting me and you would have known sooner," Maarten smiled a little lopsided as he draws out his dagger, pressing it up against Mircea's neck before the vampire can fathom what's happening.

"But right now I'd appreciate it if you told me where my sister is, and what you plan to do with these bones and this room,"  
"Ah, no can do. You will have to choose one. I don't give out all my secrets in one night,"  
"I think you fail to understand the situation you're in," Maarten growls and presses the knife harder against his skin.  
"But you fail to see the bigger picture. You are one man against two. You'll have no one else to turn to," Mircea smirks; but Maarten feels a spark of glee inside him. Mircea doesn't know about the others.  
"I work best alone," he half-lies  
"Well you'll love the next few centuries then," Mircea laughs before kicking Maarten hard in the abdomen.

He gasps for air as he steps back, dagger falling to the floor as he heaves for a proper breath.

"You fucker," he hisses between breaths.  
"I am only making it a simple choice for you," Mircea smirks, snapping his fingers – leaving the room in total darkness.  
Maarten tries to stand up, only to find the lights go back on once more.

The room is gone, instead he's back where he started.  
His discarded weapons on the floor where he left them.

"I think you should worry about your sister before you worry about my plans, after all, who knows how many years you have left with her…" Mircea's voice whispers in his ear – but the vampire is as good as gone when Maarten turns around.

"Fuck," Maarten curses loudly to himself. He hates it when he does that.  
Actually; he hates more or less everything he does.  
The guns are a welcome comfort when he attaches them back to his belt; a quick look and he's sure they're as good as before.

Mircea told him to find his sister.  
But Mircea thinks he's alone.

And that is the first step in winning this battle.

He can't get out of the underground network fast enough, but he takes extra precautions about making his way back to Erik's mansion.  
If Mircea or Arthur have spies; he does not want them knowing he has help.

Surprise is what he needs to stay one step ahead here.  
And four vampires and two humans at his side is certainly a surprise if there ever was one.


	8. Chapter 8

"Welcome back," Cecilé greets him as he steps inside, holding a tray of cups and smiling happily "Everyone else has returned already," she informs him. A good secretary indeed, Maarten thinks.

"Any good news?" he asks as he shrugs off his coat.  
"Yes, your sister is safe,"

Maarten pauses and blinks.  
Relief.  
The utter joy of relief is all that fills him.  
"Is she… here?"  
"Yes. Currently sleeping upstairs in one of the guest-rooms. We thought it was best if we waited till you returned before waking her up,"  
"Excellent. Keep her sleeping. I think we all need need to talk together before we tell her anything,"

Cecilé nods in understanding before carrying the tray of cups upstairs.

Everyone is sitting in the living room munching biscuits when he enters, Francis giving a little wave and a cocky grin.  
"Heard the news?" Gilbert laughs.  
"Yes, Cecilé told me, who got her here?"  
"We did," Gilbert grins triumphantly and points to Francis.  
"Thank you," Maarten replies, his voice sincere.  
"No problem. You owe me a new jacket though," Gilbert chuckles and displays the tear "She didn't really go peacefully, feisty for a human… I gotta say,"

"Strange men coming to kidnap her.. no I imagine that didn't go too well," Maarten rolls his eyes.  
"What about Arthur?" he adds.

"Idiot was sleeping, so we left him," Gilbert shrugs.  
"In other words, we left an enchantment on him that will last till morning. He won't know she's gone until another few hours," Francis smirks dangerously. "We debated if we should just kill him, but thought it might not be the best time, less murder the better and all that,"

"What did you two find?" Cecilé asks Halldór and Veronique as she pours them all tea, eager to change the conversation away from murder for at least a little longer.  
"Not much, a few drunks and one or two other vampires," Halldór shrugs "We think we've constructed a very good map of the place, so all in all that might be handy later,"  
Veronique unrolls a hand-drawn map, her and Halldór's handwriting all over the place highlighting dead ends and exits. In red pen is several routes jotted down trough the underground maze; and Maarten realises they have found the best routes to both the houses.

"Might be handy," Erik mumbles softly "What about you Maarten?"

Maarten takes a deep breath before telling his tale.  
Which leaves everyone else speechless for a moment.

"So you found the room, but not much else…?" Veronique enquires with a frown, breaking the silence.  
"Save for his collection of freaky stuff in jars, no. There was little else. However; I think I saw this brother of his,"

"Really?" Francis looks at him with wide eyes "What does he look like?"  
"Yes, well…. there was only bones in the coffin, but he spoke about 'him' coming back, so…"  
"Reasonable to assume then," Erik adds.

"But we still don't know more details do we?" Veronique sighed "Why chose now to resurrect his brother? Why not later? Why not earlier?"

"Wait just a moment," Erik stood up so quickly the whole table rattled.  
Everyone watched as he ran out the living room, only to return a few moments later with a large leather-bound book.  
"What the hell Erik?" Maarten stared as he placed the book down on the table.

"Astronomy. I did it as a side study of it at university in my first year," Erik tapped the book's cover.  
"Is there something you haven't studied?" Maarten gave him a suspicious look.  
"Shut up. I got bored one semester or two… Anyway, Mircea said he wanted to have his brother back, and you said all you saw in the coffin was bones… so, he's likely been dead for a long, long time…"

"And to revive someone so long gone, you need a lot of magical energy," Veronique added.  
"Yes, but even then it's difficult," Erik said as he flipped through the pages, "unless something specific is at your aid,"

"The planets!" Veronique almost shouted.  
"Yes, correct," Erik nodded, a smile on his lips as he pointed to the planetary chart.  
"What's so important about the planets?" Gilbert leant closer.  
"When they line up we can draw magical energy from all nine, but it only happens once in every 500 years or so, even more years apart if you want an even better linear line up, so you can imagine how rare an opportunity this is," Veronique was bouncing up and down in her seat in glee as she explained. 

"Mircea needed a magical gathering place, a skilled necromancer and a scientist of sorts… and the planets. All to bring his brother back?" Cecilé hummed.  
"With so much magic his brother will likely be brought back with no problem, and stay alive instead of slowly beginning to wither away again," Veronique looked thoughtful "But we still don't know why Erik would be needed…"

Erik looked uncomfortable as everyone stared at him.

"You're not telling us something…" Francis narrowed his eyes, and Erik swallowed nervously.  
"Honestly, I don't know magic!"  
"It's the only thing that makes sense. Why else would Mircea want you out of everyone else?" Gilbert too looked ready to pounce on him.

"I…I don't know," Erik stammered.

"Liar," Maarten sneered "You're hiding something,"

"He's not lying," Halldór interjected, and everyone turned to him, "And he's not hiding anything from either you…"  
"Oh?" Gilbert raised an eyebrow at the young vampire "Do explain,"

"Erik doesn't know magic. But I do…"

The silence was as thick as fog.

"Explain," Maarten broke the silence with a stern command.  
"Our mother was pretty good at magic. Considered herself a healer of sorts, a white witch if you will. Which made her a good nurse alongside our father… she always thought Erik would inherit some of her magic as he showed an interest in learning from an early age, but he never got any further… I on the other hand did…"

Erik was gaping as much as the rest.

"I take it you didn't know…." Francis gave Erik a look of pity as he shook his head.  
"Mom never spoke of magic as far as I can remember… but Halldór was very weak as a child, so she used to spend a lot of time alone with him while I clung to my fathers legs instead…"

"Yeah, she used to teach me magic," Halldór coughed, scratching the back of his head awkwardly.

"Suppose Mircea might have known about a witch in your family, would it be reasonable to assume the eldest inherits the most magic?" Cecilé once more has her notebook out.  
"Yes," Halldór nods "Usually the eldest inherits the most. So it was a bit of a shock to her that Erik couldn't perform magic,"

"But Mircea would have assumed he could. So you would be a natural choice to his plan," Cecilé hummed, a smile on her face – it was all coming together now.

"A witch's son, with a scientific spin. It would definitively be a good choice," Francis added, smiling at Erik who was still trying to process it all "Not to mention, white magic is very good for keeping people alive, so it would be a great asset to reviving his brother,"

"Suppose that is logical," Erik nodded. 

"So what magic can you do?" Veronique asked eagerly, leaning closer to Halldór.  
"Mostly elemental magic. Drawing on earth energy and such. I'm pretty good at withstanding heat and cold…" he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, looking unhappy about everyone's eyes being at him. "you want me to show you…don't you?"

The unanimous nodding was answer enough.  
Halldór sighed and held his hands out, almost letting a small smile slip when everyone's eyes widened as fire formed in his hands.

"That's useful," Gilbert chuckled.  
"I've gotten a little rusty, being dead kinda messes with your previous magic," he sighed as the flame froze into solid ice – before crumbling away into nothing.  
"Tell me about it," Veronique grumbled bitterly.

"Why did no one tell me this?" Erik frowned "I feel you should have maybe told me this sooner…"  
"Well, after Mom and Dad died I didn't really feel like using magic, and then I kinda..died, so yeah," Halldór shrugged "The time wasn't right,"

"As fascinating as this all is," Maarten interrupted "We need to plan our next step,"  
"Maybe wake your sister up first?" Francis suggested.  
"Why?"  
"Because, she's married after all to Arthur, and may know something,"  
"Oh…" Maarten grimaced "Good point,"

He taps his fingers against the table before standing up, suddenly nervous.  
He's not seen his sister in six months or so – and for some reason he almost fears her reaction.  
What should he say?  
Hi I'm now a half vampire, your husband is a dark wizard who works with another evil vampire, but here are my four vampire friends. They're nice. Kinda.  
He shakes his head sightly.  
This is not going to be easy.

He's pleased to find that they've given her her own room, and it's with slight bemusement that he asks if Cecilé chose the decorations in this room.  
He gets a nod in reply from Erik.  
"It's a little too pink and frilly for my tastes," Erik mumbles as he walks up to the bed.  
The relief at seeing his sister soundly sleeping in the bed – unharmed too – is almost overwhelming.  
Maarten takes a seat on the bed, and gently reaches over to her; stopping just millimetres away from her skin.  
He's scared.  
Scared of what she will do.  
What she will say.  
And think.

"You won't burn her if you touch her," Erik reminds him gently,  
"I'm a monster," he whispers in return.  
"Just don't smile and she won't know the difference," Erik shrugs, then yelps as Cecilé steps on his foot.  
Maarten glares at him, before realising that his sister is still sleeping soundly.  
"You guys drugged her?"  
"How else would we make her sleep?" Erik rolls his eyes, walking over to the night-stand and picking up a syringe.  
"This will wake her up pretty quick," he hums with a smirk, bending down and placing the needle into her arm.

Maarten watches him like a hawk, but as Erik steps away and Anika's eyes flutter open – all he feels is happiness.

"Ma-Maarten?" Anika's voice is raspy and groggy from sleep.  
"Hello," he smiles softly, beyond happy when she sits up and hugs him so tightly he swears he can't breathe properly.  
"Where the hell have you been? And where is this? And who are they? And what the hell happened?" Anika barrages him with questions, pointing accusingly at Erik and Cecile for a moment.

"Calm down," Maarten tries to be reassuring, "I'll explain everything…"  
"You better," Anika huffs, and then turns to her attention to the doorway – eyes widening before she screams.  
Maarten hears the familiar chuckle of Gilbert as he dodges the pillow she chucks at him.

"Anika! Please! Calm down!"  
"No! He kidnapped me!"  
"Please listen,"  
"He's a monster! What is he doing here?!"  
"I asked him to get you," Maarten explains hurriedly, and Anika freezes.

"What?"  
"I said I asked him to get you…"  
"but he's a-"  
"Vampire, yes…" Maarten cough, and then pulls a little at his own mouth to show his own fangs, "I know…"

Anika's face goes white as sheet, and he swears she's seconds away from fainting.  
"Are…are you all…vampires?" Anika draws the duvet up to her neck and stares at them all in fear.

"Oh, no. we're human," Erik points to himself and Cecilé, "and your brother is only half vampire. So to speak,"  
"I…I don't understand,"  
"We will explain…" Maarten sighs "Trust me, no one here want to cause you any harm,"

Hesitantly, she lowers the duvet, and at the offer of Maarten's hand; Anika gets out of bed.  
"Would you like anything to drink or eat?" Cecilé offers politely, and Anika nods slowly.

"What about Arthur?" she whispers to her brother as he leads her to the living room.  
"He's part of the long story I'm afraid,"  
"What?"  
"You've really go a knack for choosing bad guys,"  
"What's that supposed to mean?" Anika huffs and pokes his sides harshly.  
"Exactly what you think it means," he grumbles and tries to side-step her attacks.

"You are so rude, you don't even come to my wedding and then suddenly you get two vampires to kidnap me? What kind of brother are you?"  
"One that cares for your safety," Maarten grumbled as he pushed her through the doorway to the living room.

"My safety? What a joke—-" Anika stops and stares at the four vampires in the room who are all smiling and waving slightly at her.  
Two she recognises as her kidnappers, the other two she has no idea who are – but their sharp teeth are enough of a unsettling warning to her, to make her take several steps backwards.  
Maarten rolles his eyes and grabs her hand.

"They won't hurt you," he reassures her again.

"How do you know? One of them bit you didn't they?"  
"Hardly," Gilbert snorts.  
"These four have been a help, they're not to blame for my… condition,"  
"Then who is?"

Maarten sighs.  
"Sit down. We will explain,"

"I'm not sure I want to know,"  
"You need to know…" Maarten swallows nervously.  
He doesn't know where to begin.  
But Anika needs to know.  
She has a right to know.  
And it's the only way to ensure she'll stay safe.


	9. Chapter 9

Anika was stunned into silence.  
She sat perfectly still as Maarten explained what had happened; from being bitten, to stabbing Arthur, to the vampires bringing her here. It was a lot to be told at once. A little too much perhaps.  
"I…" she began, but promptly lost her train of thought – fidgeting with her hands in her lap.

"This is a lot of information to take in, we understand if you need a little time to adjust," Cecilé offered with a helpful smile.  
"No, I'm fine, I'm just fitting all the pieces together I suppose," Anika sighed deeply.  
"We're the good guys, they're the bad guys," Gilbert said with a grin "It's that simple,"

"Not quite," Francis rolled his eyes and gave Gilbert a light punch to his arm.  
"It depends on our definition of bad actually,"  
"This is not the time to get philosophical," Maarten grumbled at Francis "Mircea is trying to raise the fucking dead, we're all saints in comparison,"

"Keep telling yourself that," Gilbert smirked.  
"Let's not fight amongst ourselves now shall we?" Francis crossed his arms and glared accusingly at Maarten and Gilbert.  
"I'm sure Mircea would be trilled if we killed each other off first," Erik sighed, turning to look at Cecilé with a unamused expression.

"So… what's the plan?" Anika looked around questioningly "Are you, or we, supposed to attack or something?"  
"You won't be doing anything," Maarten said sternly.  
"Why not?"  
Maarten cleared his throat and scratched the back of his head as he tried to avoid his sister's eyes. "Because they'll use you against me," he admitted, sending an icy glare to Gilbert who was making quiet 'aww' noises.

"That's very thoughtful of you and all that, but I'd very much like to punch my husband in the face myself thank you,"  
"He's a necromancer! You can't just punch him!"  
"You stabbed him! Of course I can punch him!"

"I can see the family resemblance," Gilbert whispered to the others as Maarten and Anika continued to bicker about whether or not she could punch and break Arthur's face.

"Leave them be," Francis smiled "They'll stop eventually,"  
"I'll make more tea then…" Cecilé sighed.  
"We'll help," Veronique smiled, pulling Halldór up from the sofa with her.

Erik remained seated, exchanging glances with Francis before he decided to speak up.

"If you two are done being five years old, perhaps you can shut up and help with the final plan?"

"We're not being childish," Maarten hissed, before realising everyone was smirking at him.  
Oh how he hated them all.

"So you have a plan?" Anika wriggled in her seat, looking excited at the prospect of getting to know more details.

"Somewhat, yes…" Erik grumbled.  
"We need to go back and somehow ruin whatever summoning set-up it is they've created in the underground systems,"  
"There wasn't anything apparent to see," Maarten added with a frown, it had also seemed far too easy to infiltrate the chamber. 

Easy didn't bode well. 

"Perhaps he's using invisible markings?" Erik suggested, the others falling silent as they pondered the possibility.  
"I'm still worried he's going to try to kidnap you actually…" Francis tapped his fingers against the armrest of the chair.  
"Me?" Erik and Anika said in unison; which made Gilbert chuckle.

"Well, both I suppose. But Erik is the one Mircea thought was useful,"  
"But it's Halldór who knows magic," Erik frowned.  
"Wait!" Gilbert exclaimed. "Wait just one fucking moment here! Mircea was the one to bite your brother, right?"  
"Yes…" Erik nodded.  
"We can tell a lot by blood, like if someone has a disease and what not. So if Mircea bit Halldór, would he not have noticed that he had magic?"

Erik's eyes went wide and his face a deathly shade of white.  
No one said a word, they just all held their breath.

"Fuck," Maarten grumbled and stood up so fast he almost toppled his seat over. "We can't let him out of our sight then!"

He rushed out the door and downstairs as fast as he could, flinging the kitchen door open so hard the handle dented the wall.  
However; to his dismay he was met with a scene of carnage.

Cecilé was unconscious on the floor, and neither Halldór nor Veronique was anywhere to be seen – but the blood splatters across the walls and floor didn't make Maarten feel good at all.

Erik was by Cecilé's side seconds later, checking her over for wounds – and try as he might to hide it, Maarten could see the tears rolling down his face.  
"No, no, no," he whispered as he held her in her arms.

Francis and Gilbert stood in the doorway, barricading Anika from entering. At first she was annoyed, but she caught a glimpse of the blood stained counter top and changed her mind – leaning against the wall for support.  
Slowly the realisation was sinking in.

They were all in trouble.

"How did he even get in?" Gilbert took a step forward and examined the kitchen.  
"We've placed wards around the whole place…"

"Arthur," Francis said, "I'm willing to bet it's his doing,"

It was Gilbert who first knelt down to place a sympathetic hand on Erik's shoulder.  
"Let's get her to bed," he whispered softly, and Erik eventually nodded; his whole body trembling.

Gilbert took Cecilé's still body from Erik, leaving the man to tremble and cry on the floor.

"What are you doing?" Maarten hissed as Gilbert carried Cecilé towards the stairs.  
"I'm going to do them both a favour," he frowned.  
"What?" Maarten looked at Francis for help, but he just nodded.  
"I'm going to turn her, it's not too late,"

"Turn her?" Maarten was just barely managing to keep his voice low.  
"You're going to make her into a monster?"

"Better one of us than dead, right?" Gilbert said, dead serious as he brushed the long braid away from Cecilé's neck.

A 'no' began to form at Maarten's lips before he changed his mind and snapped his mouth shut.  
He could hear Erik crying.  
Anika had slipped inside the kitchen and was doing her best to console the man she had only known for a few hours.

"Do it, but not here," he finally said; although to his surprise – Gilbert didn't smirk nor smile.  
He nodded sternly, and carried Cecilé carefully up the stairs.  
Francis followed, whispering in Maarten's ear that he would be sure to oversee the procedure.

He stood there; still as a statue – listening to Anika try to reassure Erik it would all be okay.  
Maybe it would, but Maarten felt more and more helpless every day.

Two humans left.  
Erik and Anika.

Maarten closed his eyes and tried to calm himself down.  
One breath in.  
One breath out.  
He could feel his anger surging. Not only had Mircea and Arthur killed Cecilé – accident or not, he didn't know – but they'd also kidnapped Halldór and Veronique.  
All he could do was hope both of them were alive as well.

Maarten bit his lip and punched the wall with all his strength, letting out a breath as his fist went through the wall.

No one.  
He had failed to save anyone.  
Anika was still in danger.  
Erik had just lost his entire family so to speak.

And what could he do?  
Nothing.

Maarten gritted his teeth.  
They would have to strike soon.  
He would kill them all he decided.  
No mercy. No feelings. 

This was war.  
And it was a war he was going to win.

—

It took a while for Erik to stop crying, and Anika had to help him back up the stairs.  
Maarten cleaned the kitchen, placing wards and checking every entrance for break in in the process.

By the time he had cleaned up every speck of blood and ensured there was no way for any intruder to enter the house without tripping several alarms; Francis and Gilbert returned back down.  
Maarten was almost afraid to ask how Cecilé was doing – their expressions were far too grave and serious for his liking.  
He almost missed that shit eating grin of Gilbert, and the smug smile Francis usually wore.

War took a toll on all he supposed.

"How…is she?"  
"Time will tell," Francis sighed.  
"We did what we could," Gilbert looked at his own feet "But we're not sure it will work yet,"

"Is it straight forward? Bite her and she'll turn?"  
"Not always," Gilbert swallowed nervously and kicked his foot against the carpet.  
"Sometimes it doesn't work…" Francis added softly "If they've been dead for too long, we can't 'bring them back' so to speak,"

"How long is too long?"  
"Not sure," Gilbert shrugged "It varies,"  
"Really? How do you know?"

"I used to have a brother," Gilbert said, biting his lip and averting his gaze.  
"I 'died' when he was still young, but as you know; Francis got me back… So I returned home eventually, continued to raise him as if nothing had happened,"

Maarten didn't know what to think any more.  
The more he found out about Gilbert and Francis' past the less convinced he became about his stance on vampires.

"Ludwig was quite the dashing young man," Francis added "Every bit a fine warrior for the time too, the envy and desire to most I think you could say,"  
"Yeah," Gilbert laughed "He was amazing,"

"But he died….?" Maarten needed to know.  
"Yes. He went down in battle, and by the time I found him it was apparently too late to bring him back," there was a hint of bitterness to Gilbert's voice, but he still spoke with pride.

Gilbert and Mircea were frightfully alike he realised.  
Both had lost a brother.  
Someone they couldn't bring back.

But somewhere along the line Gilbert had accepted it; and Mircea hadn't.  
Maarten wasn't sure who he understood more.

If he lost Anika; would he seek revenge? Most likely.  
Would he bring her back if he could? Definitively.  
If he couldn't, would he go insane or accept it?  
Maarten didn't know.  
He hoped he would be like Gilbert (now that was a new thought), but he also understood how someone could succumb to insanity at the loss of their loved one.

If Cecilé didn't make it, where would Erik stand?  
His mind reeled.  
So much depended on Cecilé waking up again.  
Yet it would leave Erik the only human amongst two vampires.

One mortal with immortals as his family.

Maarten had no doubt what Erik would choose if he had to.

But it all depended upon Cecilé.

"We should check the whole house over," Francis suggested, attempting to change the topic.  
"Good plan," Gilbert agreed "We can't risk another attack. Not when we're down by so many…"

"I hope Halldór and Veronique are okay," Anika said, coming down the stairs slowly.  
"How is Erik doing?" Francis inquired worriedly.  
"Sleeping," she sighed "I tried to suggest he should go to guest room, but he refused… he's lying next to Cecilé…" she cast her eyes back up the stairs and sighed deeply.

"Someone give the guy a medal…" Gilbert muttered "He's pretty fucking unlucky,"  
Maarten didn't even want to protest. He had a point.

"Regardless of what happens to Cecilé, we have to make a move tomorrow," he said, crossing his arms.

Gilbert and Francis nodded.

"We have a week till the planets line up completely, right?" Gilbert looked at the others for confirmation.  
"But if Mircea and Arthur kidnapped Halldór and Veronique now, maybe they're starting earlier?" Francis suggested.  
"Either way we need to stop Mircea or bring those two back home," Maarten frowned.

"Agreed," Francic nodded.

"I can get us inside Arthur's house easily I believe," Anika added.  
"Oh?" Francis raised an eyebrow "What makes you say that?"  
"This key," She smirked.

"Well that might make it easier," Gilbert laughed.  
"So we waltz up to the front door? Brilliant," Maarten rolled his eyes.  
"I've got the key to every door you idiot," Anika stuck her tongue out at him, and pulled out several more.

"Forget what I said earlier," Maarten sighed.

"We might just still have the upper hand," Francis smiled.


	10. Chapter 10

Maarten found Erik in the kitchen the next morning; slumped over the table and looking a little worse for wear.  
Scratch that, Maarten thought to himself as he noticed the dark circles under Erik's eyes and the traces of tears still lingering on his face.

He felt like saying something – anything – but Maarten couldn't find the right words.  
Of course he wanted to tell Erik Cecilé would wake up; but he didn't know if she would or not.  
And he couldn't bring himself to lie to Erik.  
Lies was not what the man needed.

Wordlessly he made himself and Erik a cup of tea, placing the cup down in front of Erik with a quiet "Here you go," before taking a seat on the opposite side of the table.

Erik barely registered the cup; staring into space with a blank expression that was beginning to unsettle Maarten somewhat.  
He was used to Erik being fairly deadpan by now; but this was a whole new level of apathy.

"Erik… have you eaten anything at all?"  
Erik shook his head slowly.  
"Drank anything?"  
A nod.  
"What did you drink?"

"Don't remember," Erik mumbled, and Maarten could smell the alcohol on his breath from across the table. That answered that he supposed.  
"Drink the tea you idiot," he sighed, watching as Erik slowly did as he was told.

"I failed," Erik mumbled.  
"What?"  
"I failed…both of them…"

"It wasn't your fault,"

"But it was… I didn't do as Mircea asked, thus Halldór got hurt. Twice. And now Cecilé…" he trailed off, tracing the rim of the cup with his index finger.  
"That still doesn't mean you're the one to blame. You're not the one who hurt them,"  
"But I could have prevented it…"  
"Or maybe not…" Maarten shrugged.

"What do you mean?"  
"We don't know what Mircea's plans really are. Maybe he always planned on killing and hurting everyone?"  
"Maybe, but I still feel guilty," Erik sighed.  
"Don't,"  
"I want her back Maarten. I want her to live. I don't care how… I just want her to be alive… is that wrong?"

Maarten drummed his fingers against the table.

"No…" he replied after a moment "Selfish perhaps, but I'm not sure it's wrong,"  
"Heh," Erik gave him a lopsided smile "I am a very selfish man,"  
"You invited three vampires, a half vampire and his human sister to live in your home, despite not knowing any of them. Very selfish,"

Erik chuckled.  
"Shh, can't let people know I have a heart,"  
"Secrets safe with me," Maarten smiled.

He wanted Cecilé to wake up too – Erik deserved every little piece of happiness, and at least this way death wouldn't rob it from him once more.

"We move tonight then?" Erik asked, taking a sip of his now rather lukewarm tea.  
"Correction, you stay here while the rest of us make a move,"  
"What? No fucking way, I'm coming too,"  
"No you're not. You're staying here,"  
"They kidnapped my brother and killed my wife. I have faces to punch and bodies to burn,"

"Are you sure you were always a pharmacist?" Maarten smirked.  
"I had some wild friends as a kid…" Erik coughed.

"Really?"  
"Yes. So don't try to make me stay behind,"  
"You're still a squishy, weak human in comparison to the rest of us, so don't forget that,"  
"How could I?" Erik rolled his eyes.

Maarten laughed; Erik was almost back to normal.

"We better sharpen our weapons. Can't go vampire hunting with dull stakes," Maarten rose from his seat and was about to put the tea cups in the sink when he caught a shadowy figure in the doorway.

He froze and gaped.  
Erik noticed Maarten halt and gave him a confused look; not noticing the figure walk up behind him until she had her arms around his shoulders and pressed a kiss to his cheek.  
"Good morning," Cecilé whispered in Erik's ear – and Maarten watched as Erik's eyes went wide.

"C-Cecilé?" he stammered forward, turning his head to confirm if it really was her.  
"Who else?" she laughed, and Maarten caught a glimpse of her fangs. Never had he been so relieved to see a vampire in his life.

Erik smiled so brightly it was almost comical; and when he stood up and hugged Cecilé so tightly it looked like she might stop breathing – Maarten saw it as his cue to leave the kitchen.  
He could hear Erik sob into the crook of her neck from sheer joy; Cecilé rubbing his back and telling him everything was fine.

For a moment Maarten believed her too.  
He really did.

"So she woke up?" Gilbert emerged from the shadows, making Maarten flinch.  
"Yes,"  
"Good, was getting a bit worried,"  
"You actually care…."  
"Why do you find that to be so weird?" Gilbert crossed his arms and frowned.  
"I just…"  
"Struggle to see us as anything but monsters. Yeah yeah," Gilbert waved his hand and rolled his eyes at Maarten "We all know that already,"

"No, I'm just not sure where to place you all,"  
"You really think this is a war between the black and white chess pieces or something?"  
"Uh…" Maarten cleared his throat,  
"Cause it fucking ain't. We're all a little grey here, you included,"

Maarten couldn't even begin to formulate a reply, his mind was reeling for an answer – anything to somehow justify it all.  
"I never killed a human," he mumbled.  
"And maybe I never killed someone who didn't deserve it, ever considered that?"

Gilbert frowned and leant against the wall, disappearing into the shadows; leaving Maarten to stare into space.

He was certain Gilbert was lying. Or at least twisting the truth.  
But the thought wouldn't leave him alone.

Maarten paced back and forth in his room as he sharpened his daggers and stakes.  
Gilbert's words spun around in his mind and distracted him from his work; Maarten was halfway done with his daggers when he missed the whetstone.

He hissed as the sharp blade sliced deep into his thumb.

But as he drew the blade out, he watched as the blood stopped flowing and the skin melted slowly together – leaving no trace of a wound.

It was useful, he couldn't deny it.  
Yet he felt weird about it.

Mircea had made him much stronger and more dangerous; he had practically given him immortality.  
And that was unsettling.

Had it been a fluke?  
Had Mircea mean to kill him?  
Or was there somehow a more sinister reason for his actions?  
He assumed the latter.

"Maarten?" Anika knocked softly on the door, and Maarten reeled around.  
"I swore I closed that door," he grumbled.  
"You didn't lock it," she rolled her eyes and stepped closer, eyeing the dagger in his hand.

"Did you want something?" he asked as he slowly began sharpening the dagger again.

"Not really,"  
"Get some rest or something then,"

Anika frowned, stepping closer and placing her hands over his.  
"You don't tell me anything any more… you know I hate being left out,"  
"It's all for your own good,"

"Really?" Anika frowned and dug her nails into his hand ever so slightly, "Because I think you're being stupidly secretive considering how deep into this we all are,"  
"I can't afford to have you hurt as well,"  
"Bit too late for that," Anika released her grip on his hands and smiled sadly up at him.  
"What?"  
"Come on Maarten," she rolled her eyes "No one in this place is fine, you must have noticed?"

"Gilbert and Francis seem to be doing okay," he tried to reason, but Anika shook her head.  
"Are you blind? Everyone is carrying a dark cloud over their heads…,"  
"But,"  
"No. No excuses. I've made up my mind, and I'm going to come with you. No way am I letting you stab my husband a second time without my consent first,"

Maaren chuckled and pulled his sister into a tight embrace.

"Deal," he muttered almost inaudibly.

—-

He found Gilbert and Francis in the kitchen a few hours later alongside Erik and Cecilé; exchanging weapons and little hand-drawn maps. Cecilé seemed to be adjusting remarkably well to her 'new' body so to speak – and Maarten envied her somewhat for it.

"Ready?" he asked, and everyone nodded.  
"Everyone clear on where they're going and what to do?"  
More nods.

"Right, ten minutes between each group leaving the mansion. Ready?" he turned his gaze to Francis and Gilbert; who both nodded and rose up from the table.  
"As soon as we find Halldór and Veronique we'll report back," Gilbert said sternly, gone was his cocky and confident demeanour – in it's place a battle hardy veteran emerged.  
Maarten wasn't quite sure what version of Gilbert he preferred.  
This side of him was deeply disturbing on a whole different level.

The duo disappeared from view in a second; leaving no trace behind them – and Maarten was praying that they'd be able to enter Mircea's house just as flawlessly.

"You two know where you're going?" he asked Erik and Cecilé.  
"Yes. We'll ruin the summoning room and the surrounding as best we can. Figure misplacing and breaking some stuff will do nicely right now," Erik smirked.

"Excellent," Maarten nodded "We'll see you back here then," he added a 'hopefully' in his mind.  
He hoped it would go seamlessly; that they'd all be in and out in only an hour or so.  
But the feeling of unease wasn't getting any weaker.

It didn't help that his sister was trailing behind him on their way; and for each step they took Maarten became more and more worried something would happen to her.

He found himself holding his breath when she unlocked the cellar door; and with a silent protest he insisted he should go inside first.

Anika made a muffled squeak of fright as they entered the cellar, her complexion paling at the sight of the cellar – or more importantly; the contents of it.

"This is horrible," she whispered to Maarten, frowning at the numerous mummified animals that hung from the ceiling.

"My dear Anika, do you not like it?" Arthur smirked as he stepped out from behind a mummified corpse (that Maarten was pretty sure had been a horse at some point. Or a deer. Creepy as hell whatever it was).

"Not at all," she replied and stepped closer to Maarten, glaring at Arthur.

"A shame… they are ever so useful," he snapped his fingers; and Maarten swore he saw something move.

Without warning he grabbed Anika by the hand and dodged out of the way of a flying projectile.

"Did he just make a dead bird attack us?" Anika gaped.  
"Told you your husband was a necromancer,"  
"I am so filing for divorce once this is over, ugh. Creepiest man I've ever dated by far,"  
"That Spaniard wasn't much better," Maarten mumbled.  
"This is not the time for your grudges," Anika hissed.

"Keep telling yourself that," Maarten muttered as he pulled her away from another bony bird aiming for their heads.

"How are they even flying?" Anika asked as she sent the bones of another one flying across the room with a high kick.  
"Magic," Arthur laughed from somewhere else in the room; making Maarten frown.

Great. Now he was projecting his voice.

"Come on, play a little," Arthur laughed.  
"Play?" Maartne sneered.  
"Hand me a dagger," Anika whispered.

He didn't even question it.

And before he could ask what her plan was, Anika disappeared behind the mummified animals.

Maarten swallowed nervously and tried to move – stopping dead in his tracks as a large paw slammed right into his chest.  
"Fuck," he hissed, glaring up at the bear.  
"Oh so very useful," Arthur's voice sounded from somewhere behind him, and Maarten couldn't decide if he should turn around or stay put.

He needed eyes in the back of his head for this place.  
Each time he took a step in any direction; a new animal came to life.

"Why do you fight like a coward?" Maarten growled as he ran a dagger trough the belly of a lynx, swearing loudly as the large cat seemed to be no worse off with a gaping hole in it's stomach.

"Coward? Hardly," Arthur laughed "I am only being careful. I know how sharp those daggers of yours are,"

"Sharpened them today especially for you," Maarten sneered, kicking a mummified wolf away so hard he heard the bones crack. Where the hell was Anika?

"I'm touched," Arthur replied coolly "But I'm afraid that your little knives are getting nowhere near me toda—-"  
Maarten heard the sharp intake of breath before Arthur's body slumped to the floor a mere three metres away from him.

He stared in disbelief as Anika stepped over him, a blood stained dagger in her hands.

"How about we sign our divorce papers in blood?" she suggested with a frown, nudging Arthur's body with her foot, almost smirking as the man emitted a low groan.

Impressed and also a little scared, Maarten quickly got to work on tying Arthur's wrist up behind his back; and as they pulled him back onto his feet Maarten noticed the wound was already beginning to heal.

"Impressive healing you've got," he remarked, digging his fingers inside the wound and smirking as Arthur screamed.  
"Maybe you'd like to tell us a little bit about your plans before I see just how much it takes for you to stop healing?"  
"How about I don't tell you shit?" Arthur hissed.  
"That," Maarten said darkly as he dug his fingers even deeper into Arthur's wound "Won't do at all,"

Arthur's gaze wandered over to Anika; pleading with her – but much to Maarten's joy she remained stern and cold.

"You have so much to answer for," she said coolly, "And as you're aware my brother doesn't always play nice."


	11. Chapter 11

Arthur had remained silent for quite some time, resisting and refusing to cooperate regardless of how many punches Maarten threw at him.

However; it was Anika who managed to make him talk when she began breaking his fine china-ware, jars upon jars of dried herbs and strange things floating in alcohol.

"You expect me to say no when someone offered me such great power?" Arthur spat.  
"You could have backed out long before innocents got themselves killed," Maarten sneered in return, flicking the dagger back and forth in his hand.

"And give up all of this?" Arthur rolled his eyes and tugged against his restrains.  
"I can't believe I married you," Anika sighed; she had taken a seat on the kitchen table and was kicking her legs back and forth as she gave Arthur a dirty look.  
"You're terrible," she added.

"Why don't you tell us where Halldór and Veronique are," Maarten pressed the dagger against Arthur's neck and smirked; he had no intentions of outright killing the necromancer, but scaring him to talk he could do.  
"I had nothing to do with them," Arthur gritted his teeth and tried to not show any fear; but his mask was cracking at the edges minute my minute.  
"Liar," Maarten hissed "You must know where they're being held,"  
"No. I don't,"

He watched Arthur carefully, trying to see if he could pinpoint any signs of the man lying.  
There was none.  
"What is Mircea planning? You must know that,"  
"Bring his brother back. He told you that himself didn't he?"  
"I doubt that's all he wants," Maarten slid the knife down Arthur's throat, drawing blood.

"It is, I swear,"  
"Then why don't you tell us where he is and I'll go double check?"  
"I don't know where he is!"

Anika rolled her eyes and jumped off from the table, leaving her brother to extract more information from Arthur. She wandered out of the kitchen, running her hands across the familiar walls that seemed a little darker and a little more sinister since last time.  
It was as if the whole house had been cast into a shadow – the pictures on the wall had gone from bright and happy to dull and stern.  
It was enough to make her shudder.

The place had been home; but now it was the furthest thing from homely she could imagine.

Something was watching her; and while she had thought she knew every nook and cranny in the whole house – things weren't the same any more.

Trembling, she returned to the kitchen; almost feeling sorry for Arthur as he sat tied to the chair while Maarten threatened to slice his fingers off.

"Let's just leave him and look for Mircea ourselves. He can't be that far away,"  
"No fucking way am I leaving him alone, I don't even trust him half as far as I can throw him,"

"Fine, bring him along then," Anika sighed, casting a worried glance out the door – something was watching.

Yet when they walked through the house, Anika felt no presence.

"Weird," she muttered to herself.  
"What's weird?" Maarten raised his eyebrow,  
"I swore something was watching me earlier, but it seems to be gone now,"  
"It fucking better be," Maarten grunted and pushed Arthur in front of him. 

Halfway down the hallway, Maarten felt the ground shake and his vision blur.  
"Anika! Move!" he yelled and pushed his sister back up the hallway as hard as he could before his entire vision went black.

"Oh my, you got very far with some help,"  
"Mircea," Maarten snarled and turned around, expecting darkness and instead met face to face with the vampire himself.

He jumped backwards, but rather than landing in the empty hallway behind him like he expected to do – Maarten got the breath knocked out of him as his back hit a hard brick wall.

"In a hurry to leave already?" Mircea laughed "You only just arrived!"  
Maarten turned and looked around him and quickly came to the horrible realisation of where he was.

The underground room.

"Everyone else has arrived too!" Mircea stretched his arms out and spun around in a circle; Maarten stared in disbelief.

Francis and Gilbert had found Halldór and Veronique; but all four were unconscious and lying alongside one wall. Maarten didn't like the sight one bit.  
Vampires healed fast.  
Yet here four of them lay unconscious; blood stains visible on their clothes and skin.  
The sight made him shudder.

However; he couldn't see Erik nor Cecilé anywhere in the room; and it brought him some comfort for the time being.

"You've reached the party just in time," Mircea laughed, taking a few steps till he reached the wooden coffin in the centre of the room.  
"In time? Aren't you waiting for the planets to align up?"

"Ha!" Mircea grinned like a maniac "Not when I have all of you here,"

Maarten's heart sank; he should have made everyone stay at home. 

The guilt was eating him from within; and if this was what helplessness felt like – then Maarten would rather die.

"I don't understand," he uttered, confused as to why Mircea somehow still allowed him to wander around freely.  
"Understand what?" Mircea turned and smiled at him – the same warm smile he had worn in the pub.

Deceitful. Manipulative. Liar.  
The words spun around and around in Maarten's mind; and he wished he could have seen through Mircea's disguise earlier.

"All of this… what you're doing. What you've planned… why you've hurt everyone,"

"I've not hurt them all," Mircea looked hurt for moment "You've done some damage too,"  
"Lies," he hissed.

"And I've told you why I'm doing this," Mircea patted the coffin.  
"You want your brother back, yeah I fucking figured that by now," Maarten sneered "But why the need for everyone else? Why turn so many of them and hurt so many innocents?"

"Well," Mircea shrugged "What else was I to do when they refused to help?"

"Not kill people would be a start you idiot,"

"I offered them riches and power, and they said no. They weren't supposed to say no," Mircea pouted "So naturally I had to ensure they knew not to say no ever again,"

Maarten stared, he was completely dumbstruck by Mircea's words.  
He had thought someone so old would be full of wisdom; but somewhere along the lines of time the vampire had snapped.  
Something had cracked in him – rationality went out the window.

However; what had made him so unstable?  
Francis and Gilbert were far from like Mircea.

"So you turned Erik's brother into a vampire, kidnapped two of them and now you've knocked four vampires unconscious?" Maarten crossed his arms and tried to make himself look as tall as possible.

"Naturally," Mircea shrugged, running his fingers over the coffin with a sad smile.  
"They killed him, so of course they should be used to bring him back,"

"What?" Maarten stared.  
"They killed him," Mircea repeated with a roll of his eyes.

"Who?"

"They!" Mircea gestured to the unconscious vampires.

Now he was more confused than angry.

"They can't have killed your brother… especially not Halldór and Veronique – they're far too young,"

"Well, not them then," Mircea frowned "But their parents,"

"Halldór's parents would still be too young,"

He watched as Mircea froze, his gaze drifting into the distance.  
Maarten didn't dare move – he was worried he'd break the spell of whatever it was that had made Mircea stop.

"But it happened just a little while ago…" Mircea muttered.  
"I remember it so clearly,"

Time for a new tactic, Maarten thought.

"How did he die?" he asked carefully. 

"You should ask them," Mircea hissed.  
"Wake them up and I will," Maarten replied, trying his hardest to remain calm.

"He was too young, it wasn't fair. They just took him, dragged him away – placed on the stakes for my sins…" Mircea lean against the little coffin, fingers pressed hard against the glass lid.

Maarten shuddered; and he swore the room was going darker by the minute.

"I can still hear his screams," his whispered; and for a brief moment Maarten was pretty sure he heard them too.

Shaking his head and moving closer to the centre of the room, Maarten hoped he could avoid fighting – his sister, Erik and Cecilé were still out there. And so was Arthur.  
He didn't want to jeopardise more people's safety. Not now. 

"Mircea," Maarten hoped to bring the vampire back to reason – even for just a second.  
"When did he die? What year?"

"It was just… just…" Mircea trailed off, staring at his own hands. Maarten could see him counting his fingers over and over and over again before he turned to face him with a horrified expression.  
"I forgot. I can't remember…"

"Well I can tell you you've got the wrong people,"

"They look just like them," Mircea whispered, looking back and forth to the others and Maarten.

It was unsettling. From cocky and confident to broken and scared; Maarten didn't know what to do with Mircea. He realised he pitied him.

"I've lived for too long…that's it, isn't it?"

"Maybe," Maarten eyed the four unconscious vampires; hoping they would wake up soon so he didn't have to worry about them; but there was no sign of movement.  
He needed to stall Mircea for longer.

"These aren't the same guys who took your brother, that would be impossible…"  
Unless they're time travellers, he thought to himself.  
"But they… no. Of course not. Although. I mean… maybe?" Mircea was muttering and staring at his own hands.  
"They could have… no, don't be stupid. But they are also like me… but I was there before… how..but…"

Maarten watched in horror as Mircea seemed to slowly dwindle into insanity.  
Was this what being a vampire was really about?  
Was this what waited for them all?

He shuddered at the thought, and slowly began to edge his way over to Francis.

Bending down, he tried to shake the vampire awake – but to no avail.

Gilbert was the same.  
No response no matter how hard Maarten tried to shake him awake.

Halldór and Veronique were out cold as well.  
This was making him feel less and less at ease by the minute.

The muttered words of Mircea could be heard faintly from the centre of the room; and Maarten didn't really want to stay to find out what happened when he stopped talking to himself.

He had been so certain he wanted to kill the vampire just a few minutes ago; but now he felt different.

Not that he wished to just let Mircea go, that didn't sit right with him either.

Yet; for each muttered whisper of horror that the vampire uttered to himself, Maarten felt the need to help the guy.

"Maarten," he heard someone whisper, and to his delight he spotted Erik hiding in the shadows. 

"Get them out," he mouthed and pointed discretely at the others "I'll distract him,"

Erik nodded in reply and went back to hiding; Maarten couldn't see Cecilé anywhere – but he was sure she was nearby.

Now; how to distract a vampire going mad?

Maarten took a deep breath and marched over to Mircea, pulling his arm back and punching the vampire square in the jaw – sending him stumbling backwards and down onto the cold floor.

Not the nicest of ways perhaps; but certainly effective.  
He almost smiled as he watched Mircea sit on the floor in utter confusion; rubbing his sore jaw.

"Listen here you fucker," he hissed, bending down to grab him by the collar of his shirt.  
"Clearly your brain has rotted away after all these centuries; and I've got half a mind myself to relieve you of your misery right here right now," Maarten growled and pulled out a silver dagger, pressing it to Mircea's chest as he dragged the man back up to his feet – the sharp blade digging into the vampire's pale skin.

"Do it," Mircea hissed back with awful clarity.

"Maarten!" he heard his sister yell, and for a brief moment he tore his gaze away from Mircea – he needed to know she was okay.  
It was all the time Mircea needed.

Before Maarten could say anything; the room spun and went dark – and where his feet had been firmly planted on hard stone before, he now felt soft grass beneath him.  
A clear night sky stretched above his head in place of grey stones. 

Although he welcomed the breath of fresh air; Maarten was not impressed by being randomly teleported.

"What the fuck is going on?" he turned back to Mircea; who had made no move to break free.

"I believe you were about to kill me," he replied with a shrug.

"Not until you tell me what the hell you've been planning for all these years,"

"I've told you,"

"And you've just spent minutes rambling to yourself. What the hell?"

"A moment of lunacy, I'm better now," Mircea smiled; not at all bothered by the knife Maarten still held against him.

"Like hell you are," Maarten grimaced, pressing the knife against Mircea's chest a little harder "Why the hell did you move us to…this place?"

"I figured you didn't want your sister to see you murder me…"

The sincerity in Mircea's voice threw Maarten completely off, and he let the vampire go.  
His head hurt; nothing was making any sense any more.  
One moment Mircea was the number one enemy who clearly only cared about himself – the next he showed sympathy and thoughtfulness.

"You're the strangest fucking guy I've ever met," Maarten grumbled.  
"Good! I think…" Mircea flashed him a smile.

Maarten rolled his eyes; surprised to say the least when Mircea sat down cross-legged on the grass and gestured for Maarten to join him.

Slowly he did; although he still held the dagger firmly in his hand – taking a seat a good metre away from the vampire.

They sat in silence for a moment; listening to the wind rustle through the trees and watching the clouds drift across the sky above their heads.

"I figured being immortal would be great you know," Mircea said quietly "I always imagined I would be able to do so much; so when the choice of becoming this," he gestured to himself "and saving my brother or letting him die – I jumped on the opportunity…"

"You used to be human?" Maarten raised an eyebrow, grimacing slightly.  
"Kinda. Maybe. I'm not sure any more," Mircea shrugged "I don't think I was ever human, but nor was I always this,"

"I see…" Maarten lied.

"I figured I'd make him immortal too. And then we'd be too. Forever… And it worked! He didn't get ill. He lived,"

Maarten said nothing – just nodded.  
He was trying to piece together Mircea's history, but it was a jumbled mess of puzzle pieces.

"And then they came along…" Mircea hissed; and Maarten saw the anger flare up in his eyes – an ominous glow that made him uneasy. With a frown he fumbled in his pocket for a bottle of holy water, and without warning dumped its contents onto Mircea's head.

The vampire let out a yelp and sprang to his feet, brushing off as much of the water as he could.

"Now that I've got your attention," Maarten chuckled "Why don't you try to keep sane for a bit longer?"  
"You are so rude, has anyone ever told you that?" Mircea grumbled and inspected the small burns on his hands that were slowly healing up.

"Yes," Maarten grinned "Although I was actually expecting more damage,"

"Better luck next time," Mircea murmured.

"So let me get some things clear here," Maarten tossed the empty bottle up in the air.  
"You're a vampire. One of the first. You choose to become one to save your brother, and while it worked he still ended up dead. Cue a good thousand years later and you're now turning innocent humans into vampires and fucking up everyone's life. Correct?"

"Well when you put it like that…"

"Sit the fuck down again," Maarten commanded "I want to know why the hell you thought Erik was somehow to blame,"

"He looks just like one of the men who killed my brother," Mircea hissed.  
"So you tried to recruit him to your little magic club because?"  
"I was going to kill him, but then I figured he would be more useful in other ways,"  
"And Francis? Gilbert? Halldór? Veronique? My sister? Me?"

"Francis and Gilbert have been around for so long, I figured they had to be partly to blame,"  
"And if I say they're not?"  
"Then it's my word against yours,"  
"Right…" Maarten rolled his eyes.

"Erik's brother wasn't part of my plan. I figured he was pretty useless beyond blackmailing Erik… and then when I decided to turn him I realised he was a bit more than what met the eye,"

"Magic," Maarten let out a sigh.

"Yes! He has magic! Just like that bastard who killed my brother!"

"Okay…okay. Back track. What exactly happened?"

"I… I figured it would be okay to leave him for a little while," Mircea said after a while "You know, we'd been around for so long… I'd maybe killed one or two people, the ones who deserved it. Murderers, the ones who cheated and lied to others… the bastard who hurt that woman…" Mircea gritted his teeth and Maarten started rummaging his pockets for another bottle of holy water.

"People who deserved to die… I only took them. But the villagers didn't see it like that, called me a devil. Satan himself even," Mircea laughed "If only they knew…"

"So they took him to make you 'pay'…?"  
"Yes… for my sins," Mircea spat.

"I see," and this time it wasn't a lie.

"I wanted him back. I still do. I want to see his smile. Hear his laugh… his voice,"  
"So you kidnapped people?"

"I did try to ask first," Mircea grumbled.  
"Hey I'm a vampire and I'd like help to raise my dead brother. Yeah, I imagine that didn't go down well,"

"Shut up," Mircea grumbled and refused to look at Maarten.

"What do you need to bring him back?" Maarten asked after a while. He understood Mircea somewhat. He could sympathise with him.  
After all; he was sure he'd do anything to keep his sister safe now, and he'd certainly be willing to offer a lot to bring her back if he had to.

"A large influx of magic energy, blood from the undead and the living along with a few other ingredients and people with summoner abilities…"

"How much blood are we talking about here?" Maarten scratched his chin thoughtfully.

"I don't know. Arthur couldn't make out the runes, and Erik refused to help read them – so I figured a human sacrifice or two…"

"What if it only requires a little bit?"

"A little?"

"Maybe no one has to die…" Maarten mumbled.

Perhaps he could stop Mircea from killing or turning more people – while also helping him.

It would certainly solve a lot of his problems – minus the thirst for revenge.

Although the hopeful look on the vampire's face was making him less inclined to punch his fangs out.

—


	12. Chapter 12

The room spun back into view in an instant, and Maarten was almost happy to feel hard rocky surface beneath his feet.  
He blinked a few times, trying to steady himself from falling over.

"Maarten!" he heard Anika yell, and was pleasantly surprised to find her embracing him tightly.  
"Anika..." he allowed himself to hug her back – so glad to find her alive and well.

"Cute," he heard Mircea chuckle from behind.  
"You!" Anika hissed, pulling Maarten a few steps away with her.

"Relax..." Maarten whispered "I think I've got this under control..."

"Everyone is here! How nice!" Mircea laughed.  
Maarten turned around – spotting Erik and Cecilé tending to the now not so unconscious vampires on the floor.  
Gilbert was cursing and muttering in German, and from what Maarten gathered; no words promised anything good for Mircea.

"What's he doing here though?" Francis inquired with a frown, leaning against the wall as he glared threateningly at Mircea.

"Couldn't leave him now could I?" Maarten grumbled, still holding his arms around Anika protectively.  
"Well you could..." Erik rolled his eyes, pressing a piece of gauze to Halldór's forehead.

"Erik! My friend!" Mircea greeted him with a smile, strolling over as if this was just another casual meeting with an old school friend.  
"How are you doing?" Mircea asked, crouching down and smiling brightly at the two brothers.  
"Great, no thanks to you," Erik grumbled sarcastically.  
"Need any help with that?" Mircea gestured to Halldór's wound.

"Eh...yes?" Erik nodded a little hesitantly – he'd been trying to stop the bleeding for some time, but it wasn't working.

Mircea smiled, rolled up his sleeve, and with a muttered word of healing Halldór's wound was as good as gone.

"Uh...thanks," Erik said quietly, running his own finger over his brother's forehead – he had to check that he was okay with his own eyes and hands.

"No problem," Mircea smiled, standing up and dusting off his trousers and jacket.

Everyone was staring at him, waiting to see his next movement.  
Following him closely with their eyes; not trusting this calm demeanour he was currently showing.

"Why is everyone staring at me? Am I that unusual?" Mircea turned around a few times, his jacket flaring out behind him – the smile still strongly etched into his features.

"You can say that again," Erik rolled his eyes.

"Oh, why?"

The whole room went silent as a grave – even Gilbert who had just seconds ago been ready to curse loudly and throw stuff around, was now as quiet as a mouse.

"Why are you all staring at me like that?" Mircea asked, turning his gaze from one person to the other slowly.

"Oh I don't know..." Gilbert grunted "Maybe because you tried to kill us?"

"I did?" Mircea looked genuinely shocked and concerned, glancing over at Maarten for confirmation that the white haired vampire was speaking the truth.  
Maarten nodded slowly, and Mircea's expression went solemn.

"You don't... remember?" Veronique looked at him worriedly, rubbing her stomach slowly.

"I...well... yes. But no? I mean," Mircea scratched his head, frantically staring at Maarten and the coffin in the middle of the room.  
"I don't think I was going to, but then maybe I was?"

"Brilliant," Gilbert sighed, rolling his eyes and baring his teeth "He's even more broken than we could have imagined,"

"I'm not broken," Mircea huffed, turning to look at the coffin.

Anika tugged at Maarten's coat, making him bend down a little to her level.

"Maarten," she whispered "He's not sane,"  
"I know," Maarten whispered back.  
"You wanted to kill him... right?"  
"Yes,"  
"So why haven't you done it yet?"

"I couldn't..." he admitted after a moment of silence.  
"What?" she hissed in disbelief, "He's tried to kill us all!"  
"Yes, but what if we can help him instead?"  
"Now you're going crazy,"

"So this is your little brother...?" Erik interrupted them; much to Maarten's surprise Erik had left Halldór's side and was standing next to Micrea and the coffin.

"Cute isn't he?" Mircea sighed sadly, placing his hands over the glass lid and staring down at the bones.

"You really miss him..."  
"Yes," Mircea sighed.

Maarten froze; he was scared of what Erik's next question was going to be.

"How did he die?"

Everything seemed to stand still as Erik uttered the last syllable.  
Maarten held his breath, ready draw out his dagger should Mircea suddenly turn.

"There was fire," Mircea sighed, eyes glowing red.  
Erik didn't budge.  
"Fire?"

Maarten took a step closer, prying Anika's hands off him in the process – he needed to get closer; to ensure if it went to hell he could stop it.

Mircea's eyes were glowing stronger and stronger.

"They dragged him outside, the sun burned his skin. I remember his screams," Mircea whispered weakly.  
"He was begging for me to come get him. And I tried! I swear!"

Erik placed a hand on Mircea's trembling shoulders, and for a moment it seemed to reduce the trembles of Mircea's body and the haunting glow of his eyes.

"They barged the door. I couldn't break it... I tried and I tried, but it was too late. They had him on the pyre! Stakes through his body. You didn't see it, but I did!" Mircea turned to Erik, his eyes still glowing – but there was sadness instead of anger in them now.

"You spoke about necromancy when we were at university," Erik bit his lip, choosing his words with care.  
"However... you never showed me the books... what if there's another way?"

Maarten let out a breath of relief – so far so good.  
Erik was thinking along the same lines as himself.

"But the runes said..."  
"Runes say many things," Erik smiled wryly.

Silence filled the room like fog, stifling everyone's voices.

"Runes say blood must be spilled," Arthur's voice cut through the room.  
"They speak of sacrifice," he continued in a low tone.

"But what kind?!" Erik hissed, glaring at the necromancer, "I think everyone in here has suffered enough for any god out there to take some pity!"

"But the blood!" Arthur yelled in return, curling his fists and marching across the room.

"Blood has been spilled enough here. By all of us so to speak!" Erik raised his voice; and even Maarten found the whole encounter to be somewhat terrifying.

"You think you can just revive the dead by pouring water over them?" Arthur growled, furrowing his eyebrows – Maarten could see the lines of anger across the British man's face – although Erik's own expression was close to match.

"I can certainly try!" Erik sneered.

"Shut up the both of you!" Veronique screamed at the top of her lungs; Arthur jumped backwards in fear – staring at the short and tanned girl who was currently baring her own fangs at him.

"Magic doesn't only go one way! You try and bring someone back from the dead you have to give something in return – or at least prepare to give something back!"

"Yes! Precisely!" Arthur growled "So we need sacrifices!"

"No!" Veronique took a step closer "Sacrifice isn't necessarily blood! You're so far in the dark with your own magic you forgot the basic rules of magic in the first place,"

"What?" Arthur stared blankly at her.

"Everything comes back to the one who casts the spell..." Halldór interrupted, leaning against Veronique as he rubbed his still rather sore head.  
"It means that if you cast something onto someone else – the chances of it coming back to you is three to twelve times as great,"

Arthur blinked in confusion.

"Good gods," Halldór sighed "Idiots,"

"There are two types of magic at the root of it all," Veronique explained, "White and black..."  
"Yes...?" Arthur's attention was fully on the young vampire.

"White magic deals with casting luck and good fortune onto others – the only side effects to casting such spells is that you yourself may receive the same spell threefold or more,"

"Yes... I knew that,"

"No," Halldór shook his head. "You're forgetting that black magic does the same,"  
"No I'm not. Bring someone back you need to give someone in return,"

"Not someone..." Halldór grumbled bitterly.  
"The caster," Veronique finished for him with a stern expression.

"So... either he or I die?" Arthur's face went white as his gaze turned to Mircea.

"Maybe..." Mircea shrugged, seemingly un-fazed by this turn of events.  
"You said we'd only need a sacrifice!"  
"I said many things..." Mircea smiled brightly "I don't even remember what I said yesterday," he laughed.

Maarten could see the anger start to boil inside Arthur – the Briton was clearly ready to burst at any moment.  
Which was not good.  
An angry necromancer was not what they needed right now.

"Can we all just sit down and discuss this quietly?" Erik suggested.  
"Oh yes. Great idea. Let's all have tea and biscuits with the two guys who tried to kill us all," Gilbert replied bitterly "What a wonderful idea,"

"Shush Gilbert," Francis elbowed him in the side.

"Truce for now maybe?" Mircea suggested brightly, all eyes on him as he spoke.

"Yes...?" Maarten replied after glancing as his friends.  
"Great!" Mircea clapped his hands and before anyone could say anything else – the underground room was no more.

"What the hell?" Gilbert yelled as he realised they were all in Arthur's living room.  
"Much more comfortable here, yes?" Mircea laughed.

"Shouldn't we tie them down or something?" Halldór whispered to Maarten.  
"Maybe," Maarten nodded, watching Mircea drag Arthur to a sofa and making the British man sit with his legs crossed.

This was surreal.  
Too surreal.

And considering there were 5 vampires, 2 humans, one necromancer and 2 half and half in the same room – that was saying something.

"So..." Mircea said, sitting comfortably next to Arthur – who was not looking too good.  
"You said you could help?" his gaze wandered over to Erik and Halldór who both looked at one another a little nervously.

"Raising the dead is risky..." Erik said "I think everyone knows that..."  
"Risks I can take," Mircea huffed.  
"Yes. Possibly..." Erik sighed "But until recently no one thought vampires could be, uh... controlled either, and look at everyone here..." he gestured to the others and Mircea gazed lazily at them all.

"Your point is?"  
"We might be able to do the impossible. But we'd need time," Halldór said.  
"I gave you plenty of time," Mircea grumbled.

"No. You tried to force everyone to do as you wish without giving anyone any rhyme or reason to your ideas," Erik replied, a hint of bitterness to his tone.

"So it's my fault?"

"Yes," everyone replied at once, making Mircea jump.

"Oh..." he bit his lip and stared at the floor.

"So are we going to just forget that he killed some of us?" Gilbert asked, frowning deeply.  
"I what?" Mircea jolted upright again, concern in his eyes.

"Exhibit A," Gilbert pointed to Halldór, "and exhibit B," he pointed to Cecilé.  
"Hh..." Mircea swallowed nervously.

Maarten tapped his fingers against his chair, waiting to see that was going to happen now.  
He could see Mircea begin to panic, the vampire's eyes darting from person to person – never lingering longer than few seconds.

Gilbert had a good point – Mircea wasn't sane.  
Maarten still had half a mind to smash the guy's face in – but given the healing abilities that he possessed; a fist to Mircea's face would likely not do much damage at all.

Killing him was also an option.

Maarten still wondered if that would be for the best.  
Rid the world of the vampire for good.  
No more mad ideas brought to reality if you're dead.

"For all you've done... we should just send you to hell," Gilbert spat.

"You'd be coming with me then," Mircea laughed.  
"Is that a threat?" Gilbert hissed, tensing his body – ready to pounce at any moment.

"No. Just how it works you know..."

"How what works?" Erik asked "Explain,"

"I'm the first one. I think so at least," Mircea shrugged "Everyone else came after due to my blood or was it magic? I forget," he shrugged before contoniing." Either way, if I die... you all die,"

"What?" Francis spluttered.

"Makes sense I suppose," Erik shrugged "Someone had to be the first vampire... right?"  
"But he didn't turn me!" Francis frowned, pointing a finger accusingly at Mircea.  
"Who did then?" Halldór asked.

"Uh.." Francis paused, "I was never turned as far as I'm aware. I was born a vampire. My mother was one too,"

"Could he have turned your mother or maybe there was another vampire that was turned by Mircea before then to turn your mother?" Veronique offered helpfully.  
"Never mind that. What the hell do you mean that you came first and we all die if you die?" Gilbert was losing his patience by now, and it was showing.

"Vampires exist today like they do, all due to my blood or something... if I die then so do you,"  
"That makes no sense," Gilbert rolled his eyes.

"I wouldn't say that," Erik shrugged "We're all a little weird here..."

"Vampirism is a little bit like a virus," Arthur said "Spreads via blood to make new ones. So if we go by that then it's likely you're all linked... Theoretically Mircea could probably control you all,"

The whole room froze, everyone staring at Mircea with the same thought in their head: had he planned this too?

"What? No. I can't do that!" Mircea shook his head "Or if I could I have forgotten..."  
"Well that fills me with confidence," Gilbert sneered.

Maarten groaned.  
Okay, so killing Mircea was no longer a good idea.  
Not unless he wanted to rid himself of every vampire as well in the process.

Which he would have loved to have done just a few weeks ago.  
Now?  
No. He couldn't.


	13. Chapter 13

"No, but if we draw a line here," Erik was hunched over a piece of paper, drawing circles and runes as he spoke.  
"And then with some offerings here, here and here," he added little 'X'es on the parameters of the circle.  
"Then maybe we could bring him back,"

"But what can we offer?" Halldór mused, scratching his head and staring at the paper.  
"Blood?" Mircea suggested.  
"Let's try to stay away from that for now," Veronique hissed at him.

Maarten was observing them closely; listening in on their conversation.  
His sister and Francis were rummaging around in the kitchen – Gilbert had found Arthur's alcohol supply and was making a substantial dent in it.

Arthur had dragged out several books on necromancy, and with some added old texts from Mircea's personal collection; they were making some progress.

It was rather fascinating.  
Mircea knew magic, but not how to cast spells.  
Arthur could do both – but beyond animating the dead he was rather clueless.

Veronique was a witch before a vampire; and from their conversation Maarten gathered she knew a lot about magical energy.  
Halldór knew a little too – and combined with her knowledge they had come up with a series of runes that could aid them.

Erik was putting it all together.  
Maarten had witnessed his brilliance at science – and this seemed to be no different.

"Are you sure the runes for moon should be placed here?" Arthur inquired.  
"Yes. Moon to the west, sun to the east," Erik nodded.

"So if we place his bones in the middle," Veronique reached over and drew a little stick figure in the centre of the circle "And try to focus the energy around him..."

"No no," Halldór shook his head, "Towards him,"  
"Yeah. But we need to gather the energy first," Veronique slapped the back of Halldór's head and frowned.

"Do you understand what they're talking about?" Cecilé leaned closer to Maarten and whispered.  
"Some of it," he whispered in reply.

"Do you have any magic?" she asked him softly.  
"No. Only full vampires posses magic,"  
"Oh..." Cecilé stared at her hands, fiddling with her wedding ring.  
"Did you want magic?" Maarten raised an eyebrow at the petite woman.  
"Well," she looked embarrassed, cupping her hands as she took a deep breath.

Maarten gaped as shadows began to dance in the palm of her hands.  
"You? But... what the hell?" he hissed angrily at her, "Who's blood did you drink?"  
"Well..." Cecilé's cheeks went a deep red as her eyes glanced over to Erik.

Maarten followed her gaze.  
No.  
No fucking way.

"You bit him?" he whispered in disbelief.  
"Yes,"  
"When?"  
"Same day I uh..died, or more accurately: the day I woke up again I suppose,"

Maarten sank down further in the sofa and groaned.

"What on earth made you do such a stupid thing?"  
"That's personal information," Cecilé huffed.

Maarten scrunched his face up into a frown.  
What the hell was she talking about?  
"What do you mean personal? The two of you spent the rest of the day in bed,"

Then it hit him.  
"Oh for fucks sake," he grumbled "Thanks for those visual images," he slapped a hand over his own eyes and groaned.  
"I said nothing," she hissed, her face still red.

"So Erik likes it rough, hu?" Gilbert said, leaning over their shoulders with a beer in his hands.

"None of your business," Cecilé scoffed, crossing her arms and avoiding both Maarten and Gilbert's gaze.  
"Is that why he's wearing a shirt and tie? To cover his neck?" Gilbert smirked, and Maarten snorted.

"I said: None of your damned business," Cecilé huffed.

Maarten stifled a laugh as Gilbert winked at her.  
He was going to tease Erik about it later too.

"But..." Gilbert lowered his voice to a barely audible whisper.  
"This is weird, right? Or am I the only one who thinks so?"  
"No," Cecilé whispered back "This is strange..."

"One moment we're all hell bent on killing them both, and now they're sitting there with our friends..." Gilbert frowned, casting a suspicious glance over to Mircea and Arthur.

"Well we can't kill Mircea," Maarten grumbled "Not unless everyone in this room bar two have a death-wish,"  
"Would you be affected though?" Cecilé asked softly "You've never drank human blood... so maybe only your vampire side would die?"

"I'm not risking it," Maarten replied bluntly.  
"There's too much at stake,"

"Life isn't too bad right now... maybe no one has to die any more," Cecilé smiled "That would be nice,"  
"It would..." Maarten nodded slowly in agreement.  
"No more deaths?" Gilbert snorted "Come on, you're both being stupid,"  
"How so?" Cecilé asked.

"We're a mismatched group here," Gilbert smirked "Vampires, humans, something in-between and a necromancer... Three of us in this room can't live forever unless someone else in this room does something to change that fact. And just a few hours ago we were all going to kill one another... but now..." Gilbert rolled his eyes and gestured to the group hunched over the table.

"Now it looks like the local bridge club's annual meeting about the next country fair or something,"

"Are you suggesting we look old?" Erik's voice sounded, and Gilbert realised a little too late he had forgot to whisper the last part,

"No. You don't look old, only act like it. However; most of us in this room are too old to count," Gilbert grinned.  
"Or too old to even remember," Mircea added with a laugh.

"You're only as old as you feel," Francis said as he entered the room with a tray of drinks – Anika following with a tray of food.

"Oh shut it Francis," Gilbert hissed "Not all of us can be so vain as you are,"  
"Don't mind him," Francis winked at Anika "He's just jealous because his hair is white, and throughout our years of friendship he's always the one presumed to be the oldest,"

"It makes no sense," Gilbert grumbled to himself as the rest of them laughed.

Maarten was thinking of Gilbert's words.  
No one had to die today – that much was true.  
But soon someone had to.

He shuddered.  
His sister and Erik were both human.  
Their time was still limited – not infinite like the rest.

He watched as Anika and Francis handed out food and drink to everyone; laughing and joking together – Cecilé joining them in an instant.  
The three seemed like siblings as they wandered back and forth filling peoples glasses and plates.

Maarten realised the sting in his heart was jealousy.

His eyes wandered over to Mircea; who was currently leaning over Erik and pointing excitedly at the runes the man was currently translating.

Gilbert was right – it was weird.

And yet he didn't mind so much any more that he couldn't kill Mircea.  
Maarten still wanted to punch the guy's fangs out – but that could wait. Right now it was almost pleasant to have everyone in one place.

"We could lock them up?" Gilbert suggested.  
"Pretty sure they'd both be able to escape," Maarten grumbled. He had considered the same.

"So we're just going to leave them?"  
"I don't know," Maarten shrugged.

He sat in silence, watching everyone talk and drink.

It was a weird and wonderful feeling.  
Although; Maarten couldn't quite place what was making him feel like this.

"Home," Anika whispered in his ear, and Maarten almost jumped off the sofa.  
"What?"  
"Home; this finally feels like home," she said and smiled brightly at him, giving his cheek a quick peck before skipping back over to Cecilé and Francis.

Home.  
That wasn't a word he had thought to describe anything as in a long time.  
Sure – in the literal sense he had had many homes.  
But 'home' as a feeling of belonging? No – not in a very long time.

Maarten smiled to himself.

This wasn't quite home to him yet, but it was close.

Mircea pulled him out of his daydreaming by sitting down next to him, handing him a glass of wine and smiling far too sweetly.  
"You're drunk," Maarten muttered.  
"No. Just happy," Mircea laughed.

"Happy about what?"  
"This!" Mircea waved his free hand, gesturing to everyone around them.  
"This?"

"This everything. Everyone here. The atmosphere, the chatter, the food!" Mircea laughed and flung his arm over Maarten's shoulders.  
"This is all just wonderful,"

"Yeah," Maarten agreed after a moment.  
"Suppose it is,"

He downed his drink quickly, hoping Mircea wouldn't notice he was feeling nervous.

It was nice. Things right now seemed to be good.  
However; Maarten didn't trust his own mind and body any more.  
Nor did he fully trust Mircea.

Hell – Mircea didn't seem to trust himself either. What hope did they then all have?

"Still scared of me?" Mircea asked, leaning closer – his fingernails digging into Maarten's shoulder.  
"No," Maarten lied.

"I know you are, I'm curious as to why?"

Maarten had to force himself not to gape or punch the vampire's nose flat.  
"Are you really asking that?"  
"I don't see what I've done to scare you..."  
"Wait a few minutes and maybe you will," Maarten grumbled, trying to move away from Mircea.  
"What are you talking abou-" Mircea cut himself off as his eyes widened.

"Oh, he uttered weakly. "Of course," he quickly withdrew his arm from around Maarten's shoulders and edged away from the Dutchman.

Maarten watched the emotions play across Mircea's face.  
Confusion, anger, worry, fear – he looked lost.

"How often do you forget things?" he asked once Mircea's expression had settled for only looking upset.

"I'm not sure. It comes and goes..."  
"What time frame in your life did you think this was?"  
"University. With Erik and Arthur..." Mircea replied after a moment.

"I see..." Maarten mumbled, his gaze wandering over to the other two men.  
Both Erik and Arthur were pointing to various pictures in books, occasionally demanding Halldór and Veronique's attention with certain squiggly lines and odd pictures.

It was lively and it was nice – Maarten could see how this had to remind Mircea about the 'old' days.

"Right now, you remember everything, right?"

Mircea nodded in reply.

"Do you know what causes you to forget where in time you are?"  
"No..."  
"Ever tried to find out?"  
"Never had a reason to do so,"

Maarten frowned, it annoyed him how easily Mircea gained his pity.

"Erik deals with medication. He's made a 'cure' for the thirst for blood vampires have so to speak – or at least something close enough to it. He might be able to help your memory..."

"Is that possible?"  
"With his science and some magic I'm pretty sure anything is," Maarten smiled.

"Not sure I want to remember everything..." Mircea said as he brushed invisible dust off his clothes.  
"But forgetting and then remembering has to hurt more, each time you have to go trough the process again,"

"I suppose," Mircea sighed.

Maarten watched Mircea's chest rise and fall with each breath for a moment until it seemed to slow down.  
He had panicked for a moment there – Maarten was sure of it.

"They'll get him back," he reassured him "I don't understand it like you do, but Erik knows his stuff and I think he'll find a solution,"  
"I miss him terribly," Mircea whispered.  
"He was so young. It really wasn't fair,"

"Never is," Maarten uttered through gritted teeth.  
"So I want you to promise me a few things,"

"Hu?" Mircea snapped his head up and around to stare at Maarten.  
"Promise?"

"Yes. I want you to promise you won't turn any more humans,"  
"But if they wish for it?"  
"Then you ask for a second opinion. Not everyone can handle immortality – you're a shining example of that,"

"Oh.. okay," Mircea nodded. "I can promise that,"

"Good. Secondly, I want you to promise me that you won't kill any more humans,"  
"Seriously?" Mircea didn't look impressed "Have you met most humans? They're horrible,"  
"Not the point. At least ask me before you murder anyone"  
"Eh, I can do that," Mircea shrugged.

"Great," Maarten sighed "And thirdly; I want you to promise me that you'll help me track down every single vampire on this earth,"  
"Sure thin- What?!" Mircea gaped "What? Why?"  
"Because if I can't kill you I can't kill them all in one go,"

"So you want me to help you murder my 'family'?"  
"No. I want you to help me track them down and ensure they start abiding by some rules,"

"Oh, I see... I think I can do that," Mircea smiled a little sheepishly.  
"Good, because I wasn't going to let you have much choice," Maarten crossed his arms and huffed.

"You're a horrible guy," Mircea frowned.  
"Should have thought of that before you turned me," Maarten chuckled darkly.  
"Clearly," Mircea huffed back.  
"You're stuck with me for ever," Maarten smirked.  
"Ehh, I could get used to that," Mircea shrugged, flashing Maarten a toothy grin.

Maarten rolled his eyes, but he couldn't stop the small smile forming.  
Yeah; it was weird.  
Yes – it was all terribly confusing.  
However; he wasn't going to stop here.  
He was going to make the best of this mess that he could.  
And if that meant dragging a slightly unstable vampire around the world, then so be it.

Maarten de Vries was not a vampire hunter for nothing.


	14. Chapter 14

"This the place?" Maarten asked and Mircea nodded in reply.

"You sure?"

"I can sense them." Mircea smirked and licked his lips.

"Good, I'm tired of chasing shadows," Maarten grumbled and loaded his gun, not sure if Mircea was hungry or just being weird again.

"There's not much left of them but shadows at this point," Mircea reminded him, his hands briefly brushing Maarten's shoulder.

"That's not creepy at all," Maarten rolled his eyes and braced himself for what was behind the thick wooden doors.

The sun was shining brightly and it was starting to annoy even him – but sunlight was a valuable weapon in this fight, although Mircea had already complained bitterly that he was sure he was turning into ash several times today.

Erik's little invention of a 'sunblock' that truly did block the sun's rays was certainly effective – if applied correctly.  
Maarten had to help Mircea get the hard to reach places on his back, and despite needing Mircea alive Maarten had deliberately missed a few spots.  
Not big enough to cause large burns or death; just enough to make Mircea itch and fidget with his jacket ever so slightly.

"Ready?" Mircea asked.  
"Ready," Maarten nodded and aimed his gun at the door.

The blast of magic shattered the door to splinters and sawdust in a split second – only cost being a terribly loud noise that really made it hard to conceal that they had arrived.  
However; it never stopped being impressive – although Maarten didn't like to admit that out loud to the vampire.

The house was silent – eerily so, and as Maarten stepped over the threshold he felt the temperature drop.

"I don't think they like us being so rude," Mircea chuckled and took a few steps into the entrance hall.  
Maarten kept a small distance, gun raised and aimed – Mircea couldn't die, nor would the monsters attack their 'father'.  
However, Maarten was halfway between friend and food.  
He took no chances.

"Do you need some light?" Mircea asked, a spark of a red flame dancing around his hand for a moment.

"No... not yet," Maarten grumbled.

"As you wish," Mircea chuckled and walked further down the hallway.

Maarten followed closely after, glancing behind him and aiming his gun at shadows he thought moved.

"I sense nothing here, save your bullet," Mircea whispered and motioned for Maarten to come closer.

Grumbling, Maarten did as told.  
So far Mircea had not failed him, and while trusting the guy with his life was perhaps still far away, Maarten at least trusted him enough to not be on edge all the time.

So far they'd caught seven 'monsters' – this would hopefully be number 8 to add to the laboratory prison cells for Erik to turn them less monstrous.

Mircea was sniffing the air, moving deeper into the house step by step.  
Had he been doing this alone, Maarten would be checking every single room as he walked down the corridor.

However; this was a waste of time with Mircea around. If Maarten's keen sense didn't pick something up – Mircea's did.

"Upstairs," Mircea motioned and Maarten nodded, readying his gun as they started to ascend the staircase.

The chill was intensifying with each step, and Maarten wrapped his scarf tighter around his neck – his breath coming out as a small cloud of mist.  
He was glad he had his thick coat on, or his teeth would have been clattering so loudly he'd be heard for miles.

The wood creaked under their feet, but Mircea beckoned him on.  
"Bedroom," he mouthed and pointed to a door at the end of the upstairs hallway.

"Great," Maarten mumbled "Why is always at the end of the fucking hallways?"

"More time for them to escape," Mircea whispered and pressed on.

"Sensible thinking for a monster," Maarten muttered under his breath.

As they got closer Maarten could hear a low growl from the room; it reminded him of a scared and angry dog.  
Scared and angry was a bad combination at the best of times – factor in being cornered and you had a likely recipe for disaster.

Neither of these things bothered Mircea; he was as careless as ever.  
Maarten assumed that after living for so long the guy had simply given up and lost almost worry over his own body.

With a large blast of energy the door and large parts of the wall were reduced to nothing but dust.  
"Knock, knock," Mircea laughed and stepped inside the bedroom.

Marten would have rolled his eyes if he wasn't so concentrated on the large, black and hulking figure in one corner.  
"There you are you fucker," he muttered.

"That wasn't hard," Mircea huffed, conjuring up a large ball of fire to illuminate the room.  
As the darkness gave way to the light, Maarten's eyes widened.  
The monster was curled up around something.  
Or more accurately – someone.

"Is that..." he blinked as tried to focus on the small body behind the monster.  
"A human..." Mircea confirmed, frowning as he stepped closer.

"Let her go," he commanded the monster, but it made no movement apart from a growl.

Maarten swallowed nervously as Mircea tried once more to command the creature to let the girl go.  
However, it wasn't budging.

"Is she even alive?" He whispered as Mircea retreated backwards.  
"Yes. I hear her pulse,"  
"Why is it protecting her?"  
"He," Mircea corrected.

"What?"  
"It's not an 'it', that there is a guy,"  
"Sure doesn't look like one,"  
"He will once Erik gives him the 'antidote', right?"  
"Yes..." Maarten frowned.

Mircea stepped closer once more – again; all he received was a loud growl from the creature as it curled up around the girl even more.  
It's eyes glowed orange, and Maarten wasn't sure if the monster's limbs were broken or just bent in an unnatural fashion.  
It didn't matter how many of them he saw, they always made his stomach churn.

The fact that vampires could go from looking human to looking like a jumbled heap of black limbs and claws was beyond him.  
Although what he feared the most was the potential he too had to end up like one of them.  
He shuddered at the thought, pushing his own worries and fear away.

"Stand back," Maarten muttered and aimed his gun at the creature's head, and before Mircea could argue he fired the bullet straight at the creature.

For a moment it appeared as if the whole earth had stopped turning.  
Nothing moved except the bullet.

The creature let out a horrific scream as the bullet hit it, its body trembling and shivering before it appeared to freeze solid; sinking slowly to the floor in a lifeless heap.

"I thought you said you'd stop killing them," Mircea hissed, eyes glowing for a split second as he glared at Maarten and the gun in his hand.  
"Stun bullet," Maarten replied, reloading the gun with another bullet. He didn't trust that just one bullet would do.

"I didn't know you had that," all anger was gone from Mircea's expression; his eyes wide in wonder instead as he demanded to inspect the gun.

"Erik and Gilbert made it," Maarten said as he began trying to untangle the little girl from the tangle of limbs.

"Hey," he tried to shake the girl gently, but received no reply.

"She sleeping?" Mircea leant over Maarten's shoulder, brushing the girls blonde hair away from her forehead.

"Seems so..."

"I'm sure Cecilé will be delighted to have another woman in the house hold," Mircea laughed.

"Great... what are we? Some kind of orphanage?"

"Yes."

Maarten rolled his eyes, but picked the girl up gently. She looked peaceful, which was almost disturbing considering she had just been tangled up with something that appeared to have escaped right out from hell.

"Why do you get to carry the girl and I get him?" Mircea whined as he dragged the monster after them.

"Because you're more likely to bite her."

"No I'm not."

"Statistics are against you you know."

Mircea grumbled bitterly, and Maarten could hear him try to argue to himself the entire way home.

Cecilé was indeed somewhat please to have another woman in the house, wasting no time in preparing a room for the newcomer.

Erik on the other hand was less enthusiastic about a new monster for his lab.

"I'm going to run out of space to keep them till they're treated," he sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "They're taking more time than usual..." Erik grumbled after a while, rubbing his temples and glancing towards the 13 'monsters' currently in separate cells.  
"I can possibly place some of them in the same cell, but not all of them are suitable for that either... not yet anyway," Erik scratched the back of his head and grumbled over his predicament.

"Expand the cells?" Maarten suggested.

"Possibly..."

"How about we stop hunting for more of us for a little while? At least till we've cured a few of our fellow kin?" Francis suggested.

"And risk more humans being turned or eaten?" Maarten frowned.

"Relax," Gilbert interjected with a smug grin, "We can just spread a little rumour that a vampire hunter is on the trails and for them all to lay low."

"And that will work?" Maarten raised an eyebrow.  
"Should do," Gilbert smirked.

Erik rolled his eyes at them all and retreated back to his desk – he wasn't sleeping much these days.  
Between trying to revive Mircea's brother and curing the vampires of their monstrous forms he was so busy he often forgot to eat and drink.  
Cecilé was possibly the only reason he hadn't fainted by now; although she did comment on the dark circles under his eyes that in her words "makes you look more dead than me,"

Progress was slow – too slow.

The newest addition to the cells was already giving him a headache.

Erik wanted to shoot it, and not just with a stun gun.  
The creature howled, snarled and bashed its body against the bars of the cell – making such a horrible racket that Erik had started to want to ask Maarten to silence the creature once and for all.

"You should sleep," Cecilé suggested softly as she wound her arms around his shoulders, kissing his neck and smiling as he leant into her embrace.

"Too much to do," Erik mumbled.

"It can wait. You need to sleep," Cecilé hummed softly "Everything will still be here tomorrow, there's no rush to finish it all right now, and everyone understands you're only human,"

"This would be so much easier if I wasn't," Erik mumbled.

"Nonsense," Cecilé ruffled his hair affectionately and pressed another kiss to his cheek.  
"But get some sleep,"

"Only if you join me," Erik yawned.

"Of course," she laughed "Hopefully by tomorrow our new guest will be awake too."

"Mhm," Erik nodded as he stood up slowly, stretching his arms above his head until his back gave a satisfying crack.

She took his hand, dragging him out of the lab as fast as she could before he changed his mind and tried to go back to work.  
Erik was the worst workaholic she had ever met, and their current situation hadn't made it any better.

Cecilé didn't need sleep – not any more, and Erik had fallen into the bad habit of not going to bed unless she did.  
She was certain he was starting to go a little mad; the screams of the newest vampire in the holding cells was certainly not helping his nerves or train of thoughts.  
Shuddering, she locked the lab door behind them.

The little girl was still sleeping, but Cecilé had given clear instructions to both Anika and Veronique to come fetch her should the girl wake up while she rested.

Erik mumbled something incomprehensible as Cecilé unbuttoned his shirt, and despite herself she had to giggle when he fell to the bed, asleep probably before his head hit the pillow.

"Idiot husband of mine," she sighed to herself and climbed into bed with him, playing with his hair and watching his chest rise and fall.

"Stupid, idiotic and sleepy husband of mine," she whispered, kissing his forehead before snuggling up close to him "Never change," she added under her breath as she closed her eyes and tried to 'sleep' herself. 


	15. Chapter 15

If Cecilé was worried of missing when their new guest woke up – she needn't be.

The blood-curdling scream could be heard by the entire house and there wasn't a single person in the house who didn't at least stir at the noise.

Erik sat up with a jolt and promptly tumbled out of bed and onto the floor with a loud crash and a string of curses.

Cecilé got up and out of bed with a little more grace – managing to throw a morning robe over herself and Erik before Erik could wander into the hallway naked.

"What the hell?" Erik muttered sleepily as he approached the guest room.  
"She's woken up..." Halldór offered as an explanation.  
"We gathered that..." Erik grumbled.

"She's now barricaded herself inside the wardrobe..." Anika added a little more helpfully.  
"Wonderful," Erik groaned.

"Wait till you see what that monster is trying to do to the cage he's in," Gilbert added with a grimace.  
"Fuck," Erik cursed loudly.  
"Right. Gilbert, Maarten and Mircea – go to the lab and try to calm him down. Use stun bullets if needed,"  
"Since when were you the boss?" Mircea asked as he crossed his arms, glaring at Erik defiantly.  
"Since now," Erik said and glared coolly back at Mircea.

"Yikes!" Mircea took a step back "Are you sure you've not turned him?" he asked Cecilé "Cause he's scarier than me!"  
"You're only scary when you're mad," Maarten mumbled and grabbed Mircea by the collar to drag him away from the now very annoyed Erik and rather offended Cecilé.

"And us?" Veronique asked, "Need us to do anything?"  
"Women can stay, Francis, Halldór and myself are going to go prepare food. You three talk to her,"  
"You sure?"  
"Yes, I'm sure," Erik sighed sleepily.

"We'll be fine," Anika smiled and patted Veronique's shoulder.  
"Come on ladies, let's try to calm her down a little,"  
"Any ideas?" Cecilé inquired as she watched her husband almost stumble down the hallway, hoping he would remember to get dressed before going downstairs.

"We could just make the wardrobe disappear?" Veronique suggested with a smile.  
"No you won't," Cecilé said coolly.  
"Diplomacy perhaps?" Anika suggested instead with a smile.  
"Worth a try," Veronique shrugged.

Anika was the first to approach the wardrobe, knocking softy and asking if she would like to come out of there.

"No," came the very firm reply.  
"We're not going to hurt you," Veronique added, hoping her young-sounding voice might make the girl less scared.  
"My brother told me never to trust strangers,"  
"Well you've not got much choice," Anika sighed.

"Not coming out," the girl said firmly, shifting around in the wardrobe.

"Can you at least answer some questions?" Cecilé tried softly.  
"Uh..maybe?" the girl replied after a moment.

"Great," Cecilé smiled and clasped her hands together.  
"Firstly, how did you end up in that house?"

"My brother brought me there..."

"And where is he now?"

"I was hoping you'd tell me..."

Anika's eyes went wide.  
'Is the monster her brother?' she mouthed to the other two.

Veronique shrugged.

"What does your brother look like?" Cecilé asked carefully.

"He used to be blonde..." the girl mumbled so softly Cecilé was glad she had better hearing – Anika was having to lean against the wardrobe to hear anything the girl said.

"Used to?"  
"He changed..."

"Care to explain?"

"He... He is still my brother. But he doesn't look like it,"  
"Let me guess," Veronique sighed "He's now tall dark and not very handsome?"  
"So you do have him?!" the girl exclaimed and ripped the wardrobe's doors open, sending Anika tumbling to the floor.

Veronique would have laughed if she didn't know how serious the situation was.  
The little girl's blonde hair was almost standing on end from having slept and then holed herself up in the wardrobe.

"Yes, my brother brought him here," Anika said with a smile.  
"I want to see him!"  
"But he's dangerous..." Veronique frowned "You'll have to wait,"

"Dangerous?" he girl looked confused "He's never hurt me..."

"Really?" Veronique glanced at Cecilé and Anika worriedly.  
"Yes. He protects me,"

"Protects you?" Anika looked confused and worried.  
"Yes,"  
""Okay, I'll believe you," She crossed her arms "But if we let you see him you'll have to answer some questions,"

The girl seemed to ponder the offer for a while before she held her hand out towards Anika.  
"Agreed,"

Anika shook it with a smile, resisting the urge to lift the little girl into the air.  
"I'm Anika, that there is Veronique. And this lovely lady here is Cecilé. It's her house you're in,"

"Annelise," the girl courtesied, "You own all this?" she whispered softly in awe.  
"My husband owns it too," Cecilé corrected with a sly smile "But if it wasn't for me he'd likely be living in empty rooms,"

"Her husband has no sense of style," Veronique whispered in Annelise's ear.  
Annelise giggled softly, and allowed Veronique to take her hand, Anika smiled at them both warmly and ushered them to follow Cecilé to the kitchen.

Cecilé was in the midst of explaining how many people were currently living in the mansion when they walked through the kitchen door; only to find a very annoyed Erik trying to throw cutlery at Mircea – who was walking on the ceiling and singing happily to himself.

"What on earth is going on here?" she asked the men sternly.  
"He stole the coffee!" Erik pointed accusingly at Mircea, who was laughing to himself and clearly enjoying himself far too much as he paraded around on the ceiling holding the jar of coffee triumphantly.

"And neither of you two thought to get him down?" she directed her glare to Francis and Halldór.  
"Well..." Francis coughed and looked embarrassed.  
"Neither of us know how to defy gravity like that..." Halldór finished and rolled his eyes.

"So you're just letting Erik throw our fine silverware at him?"  
"It's that or a bullet," Erik grumbled.  
"Woha, woha!" Mircea shouted from the ceiling. "That's going too far,"  
"Get down here with my coffee or I'll show you too far," Erik growled.  
"Oh please do show me," Mircea laughed, but his expression quickly turned to fear when Erik disappeared out the kitchen and returned promptly with a spray bottle.

"Hang on a minute," Mircea looked nervously at the bottle.  
"Is that..."  
"Holy water," Erik grumbled and aimed the bottle at Mircea, "Now get the hell down from there or I'll turn all the water in the city into holy water,"

"You can't do that!"  
"Really?" Erik cocked an eyebrow at him, a smug smile forming on his lips.

Mircea looked worried before quickly jumping down from the ceiling, somersaulting twice before landing gracefully on the floor in front of Erik.  
"Fine. Here's your coffee," he handed back the jar with a frown.

"Is that man a cat?" Annelise whispered to Anika, who was about to keel over from laughing.  
"No," Veronique replied flatly "That there is the most powerful vampire in the world,"  
"Who just happens to have lost a battle against a very angry human," Cecilé giggled.  
"Oh..." Annelise smiled a little.

"Oh, she's out!" Mircea's attentions snapped to the little girl and Francis had to step between him and Annelise to prevent Mircea from completely invading the poor girls personal space.

"Please step away before you make her want to hide again," Anika said sternly.  
"Why does everyone hate me today!?" Mircea sighed dramatically.

"Because you're a -" Erik began, but was promptly cut off by Halldór's hand over his mouth.  
"Drink your coffee before you make enemies out of everyone in here," he hissed at his brother.

Annelise watched them all chatter amongst themselves for a while, eyes trailing up and down each and everyone in turn.  
She had seen the familiar glint of fangs in several of the people's mouth – but neither of them did seem bad.

Still; her brother had always told her to be careful.

"You wanted to see your brother?" Cecilé asked her and Annelise jumped.  
"Yes, please," she curtsied at the older woman and smiled softly.

"Follow me then," she said, and Annelise was quick to follow – sparing one glance at the lively kitchen.

"Everyone seems to be very... friendly," she whispered as they descended the staircase down to the laboratory.

"Yes, it helps..." Cecilé sighed "Although how long it will last I do not know,"  
"Oh? They're all friends, so why worry?"  
"Because Mircea's unstable – and while he's more aware of it around others, I can never fully trust him," Cecilé grumbled as she opened the laboratory door.

"No one can trust that idiot," Maarten said, stepping into view.

Annelise yelped in fright at the sight of him, and hid herself behind Cecilé.

"Look what you did," Cecilé scolded him.  
"Sorry..." Maarten mumbled, not sure how someone as short as Cecilé could made him feel so tiny.

"Annelise wants to see her brother," Cecilé crossed her arms and tapped the floor with her foot.  
"The monster?"  
"Yes,"

"Oh good," Gilbert chimed in, appearing out of thin air with a cloud of dust "Maybe she can stop him from bashing against the bars. It certainly isn't wanting to listen to us. Even Mircea gave up and went upstairs,"

"Yes, we noticed that," Cecilé replied coolly.

"Bars?" Annelise's eyes went wide, taking a proper look around the laboratory.

Her breath hitched in her throat as she saw the cells at the back, lifting her dress and running as fast as she could.

Maarten wasn't slow to follow, reaching her just as she was about to press her face against the bars.

"Are you mad?" he hissed, dragging her away from the cells "Those things are wild and dangerous!"

Annelise quivered in his grip, opening and closing her mouth like a fish out of water as she tried to get away from him.

"Let her go..." Cecilé placed a hand over Maarten's "Her brother never hurt her before, did he?"

"Yeah, see what happens," Gilbert chuckled "The bars should keep her from too much harm, right?"

Maarten grumbled, but released Annelise slowly.

She stumbled a bit backwards, before turning to the monster in the cell, leaning against it.

Maarten held his breath as the twisted creature moved towards the bars.

Annelise wrapped her hands around the thick silver coated bars, leaning her forehead between a gap – and to Maarten's surprise the monster didn't rip her eyes out.

In fact – it purred.  
Or at least it made a sound that had to be closely related to purring – just a little bit more sinister and darker.

"Please tell me I'm hearing things," Gilbert said, sticking a finger in his ear to check if he was actually hearing things correctly.  
"If you are then so am I," Maarten replied, unable to contain his shock completely.

"Well, that at least calmed him down," Cecilé sighed.

"I was worried about you," Annelise whispered to the monster, and in reply it twisted its head to the side and tried to reach out between the bars.

Maarten tensed, ready to draw his gun; but once again the monster was gentle.  
He frowned and turned to ask Gilbert a question – but he was staring at another monster.

"Something wrong Gilbert?" Maarten whispered.

"That one there has familiar eyes..." Gilbert pointed, "But I can't place who they belonged to..."

"It's taking longer than usual to make them look human again..." Maarten mumbled.  
"Maybe we just need higher doses?" Gilbert suggested.  
"Too high and they die..."  
"Erik must have some idea about what's lethal?"  
"Possibly..." Maarten mumbled and glanced back at Annelise who had been joined by Cecilé.

The other creatures were trying to reach out from between to bars – but neither could reach, and the ones who got close were greeted by a very angry growl from Annelise's brother.

As much as their appearance made Maarten shudder – he had to admit that it appeared the little girl had been right. Her 'brother' wasn't a threat to her at all.

"Can he come out?" Annelise asked.  
"No,"  
"But..."  
"No," Maarten said sternly once more "But you can tell him that if he does what Erik says and takes the medicine he'll be let out faster,"

"What does the medicine do?" Annelise asked after a moment of contemplation.

"Turns them back to as much of a 'human' as possible," Maarten explained simply.  
"Oh!" Annelise's eyes went wide "Basch! Hear that?! You can be your self again!"

The monster purred and bared its fangs at them; and Maarten realised it was trying to smile.

"If Erik has had his coffee I'm sure he can get started on an increased dose of serum," Cecilé giggled.

"Is he always that angry?" Annelise asked, her hand on her brother's head – stroking him as if he was pet.

"Yes," Maarten replied flatly, which made Gilbert snort and Cecilé frown,

"No, he's not," Cecilé corrected. "Don't listen to any of the men in here, they're all mad,"

"I've been taught that's a general rule to follow in ever situation," Annelise said softly, and this time it' was Cecilé's turn to laugh.

"Wise move, you'll fit right in here then," she smiled softly at the little girl.

"Can I stay down here while Erik works? I don't want to leave him,"

"We can ask..." Cecilé shrugged lightly "He might not mind if you're able to keep your brother silent and calm,"  
"We won't make a sound," Annelise promised with a smile.

Maarten rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to the creature Gilbert thought looked familiar.  
It's eyes were following Gilbert's every movement – which he himself had realised and was now having great fun walking back and forth in front of the cell to see how to creature reacted.

"I think it recognises you too," Maarten mumbled as Gilbert stepped out of the creature's view.  
"Yeah, but I don't know who he is," Gilbert frowned.  
"You'll find out soon enough," Maarten shrugged.

"Hope so. I'll ask Francis to come have a look. Maybe he'll remember,"

"I'd suggest asking Mircea, but he forgot to wear pants this morning..." Maarten sighed.  
"Yes thank you, I noticed," Gilbert grimaced.  
"You did?"  
"Yes. Walked in on him in the bathroom,"

Maarten snorted at the imagery and shook his head.  
"Keep him on a leash will you?" Gilbert scoffed.  
"I'm not his owner,"  
"Don't care, handcuff him to yourself then,"  
"Fuck no,"  
"It would do us all a favour," Gilbert nudged Maarten's side and chuckled darkly.

"If you're so keen on tying him down, do it yourself,"  
"Nah," Gilbert laughed "He's not my type,"

"He's not mine either," Maarten hissed.  
"Well I think you're his," Gilbert grinned, disappearing in a puff of smoke before Maarten could punch his nose flat.

At least Cecilé and Annika had heard nothing.  
Grumbling to himself, Maarten decided to drag Erik down to the laboratory himself.  
He sooner he could get the creatures "human" again the sooner he could focus on catching more of them.  
And the sooner he caught more the sooner he could stop having to employ Mircea to help him.

He may feel sorry for the vampire – but he sure as hell was going to let those feeling go any further. 


	16. Chapter 16

Erik was efficient and hard-working.  
Maarten didn't as much drag Erik downstairs as it was he who was dragged down by him.

"I need another professional," Erik stated flatly as Maarten took a seat by Erik's workbench.  
"Yeah? What have you got?"

"A stronger serum," Erik shoved some paperwork over to Maarten "But I need someone to check my calculations, I'd rather be certain this is correct before attempting giving it to anyone,"  
"Hm..." Maarten studied the calculations and formulas.  
It certainly wasn't an easy task.

If they added too much of one ingredient or too little of another they could very easily kill the vampires.

Of course, Maarten often mumbled that it wouldn't be that much of a loss if that happened.

"How's the revival thing going?" he asked as Erik was trying to get the exact amount of magnesium needed for the straightened dose of serum – eyes concentrating on the droplets falling from the bottle one by one.

"Good..." Erik mumbled.  
"Really?" Maarten stared in disbelief, expecting Mircea to appear out of nowhere to ask questions as well.

"Yes," Erik replied flatly as he placed the bottle of magnesium down.  
"So you'll revive him soon?" Maarten could hardly believe it.

"Theoretically," Erik sighed "We could revive him today,"

Maarten's eyes went wide – how far ahead had Erik and the rest gotten without his knowledge?

"However, because it's a complicated and dangerous process, we don't want to rush things and get anything wrong,"

"Mhm.." Maarten mumbled in agreement. This wasn't just making a drug – this was actually bringing someone back from the dead.  
Something like that required skill and a lot of planning.

"So you thinking you'll be able to do it sometime next year or so?"

"Nah," Erik shrugged "Next week probably,"

"What?!" Maarten blurted out, kicking the desk in surprise with such force it threatened to topple over all the bottles Erik had ever so carefully filled.

"Don't be so surprised," Erik rolled his eyes, "Veronique has been watching the planets and charting their alignment, meanwhile Halldór's been arranging for all the ingredients to be measured and laid out correctly. We're almost ready, we just need a few more things..."

"But, what? How?"

"Mircea only has his brothers bones. We are made up of more than just bones are we not?"

Maarten nodded in reply.

"So we need to supplement the bones with components that will make up the rest of the body. You know... Carbon, sulphur, sodium, chlorine, copper..." Erik tapped his fingers against the desk.  
"There's a lot of things that make us who we are body wise alone..."

"And you've gathered it all?"

"Yes," Erik nodded "Just missing fluorine, silicon and tin,"

"Shouldn't be too difficult to get hose things, right?"

"No," Erik sighed "It's not. But it's difficult trying to calculate the right amount needed for a 7 year old child,"

Maarten shuddered.  
7 years?  
Suddenly Mircea's anger was a lot more understandable in many more ways.

He really had been too young to be punished for Mircea's 'sins' – even Maarten could see that.

"There are compounds found in humans which are extremely toxic," Erik crossed his arms and hummed.

"I know that," Maarten grumbled, "Uranium and beryllium, to name some..."  
"Yes, but in such tiny amounts they don't do much. However, adding it to this 'concoction' of things to bring someone back is tricky. It's far too easy to make a mistake and accidentally give him a fraction of a milligram too much of something,"

"Ah yes, Mircea might not like his brother glowing in the dark," Maartne snorted.  
"Or be pumped full of arsenic," Erik chuckled.  
"Hey, who knows, maybe it would make him effective towards hunting vampires?" Maarten tried to hide his smile.

"Ah yes," Erik rolled his eyes, "The good old 'hey does this kid smell weird to you?'"

Maarten had to clasp his hand over his mouth to stop himself from laughing too loud.  
Erik on the other hand was maintaining a near perfect poker-face – save for the hint of a smirk that he simply couldn't wipe off.

"That's a terrible joke," he finally manged to utter between fits of laughs.  
"You're a doctor and a vampire hunter, come on – you're no better,"  
"Well I did just laugh so..." Maarten coughed, trying not to lose his composure once more – one time in one day was more than enough.

"But back to serious talk," Erik's smile disappeared.  
"We think we can get him back,"

"But will it be the same brother Mircea lost?"

"That," Erik bit his lip, "I can not guarantee..."

"I see..." Maarten glanced at the holding cells for the monsters, and Erik must have read his mind somehow.

"He'll be human, don't worry. My calculations aren't that bad,"  
"You're not going to make another one of those then?"  
"No," Erik shook his head, "But whether we can get his memories back is another thing,"

"Actually. I'd rather you let memories lie," Mircea spoke from above their heads and both men flinched.

"How long have you been up there?" Maarten hissed.  
"Dunno," Mircea shrugged and jumped down, landing as gracefully as a cat on top of Erik's desk.

"Careful," Erik hissed, and quickly moved some of the bottles away.

"His last memories won't have been very happy, so if he can come back not remembering that, I'd be glad," Mircea continued talking as if it was all natural. Maarten didn't like it.

"I can't control what he'll remember or not remember... That will be Arthur and Veronique I believe," Erik frowned.

"Then they'll just have to do their best," Mircea smiled sinisterly.  
There was a hidden threat beneath the words – Maarten didn't know if he should tell everyone to run or just keep an even closer eye on Mircea.

"We are all doing our best," Erik reminded him bitterly. "And let's not forget that you've had countless time on this earth to do this yourself, yet we've made more progress in a few weeks than what you have done in centuries,"

"Nine heads are better than one?" Mircea suggested cheerfully.

"More cooks make more of a mess," Netherlands added under his breath.

"More hands less time," Mircea hissed at him.

"You're immortal, there's no rush," Maarten bit back.

"You're both annoying and if you don't shut up I'm stabbing you both with this needle,"

Mircea and Maarten froze and slowly turned to Erik.  
The syringe in his hand was a clear sign he meant business.  
"Needle alone won't hurt," Mircea scoffed.

"Two words," Erik said coolly "Holy. Water,"

Mircea paled – a sight Maarten wasn't actually aware could happen.  
The puff of smoke and faint yelp of fear from Mircea as he disappeared out of the laboratory was almost comical.

"Holy water isn't very effective against him..." Maarten whispered.  
"I know that. You know that. He has completely forgotten. Let's keep it like that, okay?"

Maarten nodded and edged his chair a little away from Erik's desk.

"So... full moon next week?"

"Yes," Erik replied after a moment, "It is..."

"That the time for reviving him?"

"Maybe..."

"You don't know?"

"Ask Veronique. She and Arthur could probably raise an un-dead army on their own. I'm the scientist, they're the magicians,"

"All right, all right," Maarten stood up, frowning slightly.  
"I'll leave you to it,"

"Thank you. Send Cecilé down if you see her. I think she's better at mathematics than you are anyway,"

"Probably," Maarten sighed.  
He left Erik to ponder his calculations and check his figures.

Truth be told, Maarten needed time to process this new information.  
They could actually bring Mircea's brother back.  
He had almost convinced himself it was all a lie to keep Mircea calm and happy – but no; it was real.  
There was a way to raise the dead.

With a price.

And no one had told him what this price would be.

Halfway up the stairs, Maarten stopped.  
Death was permanent.  
For some it was a bit harder to become dead.  
But it was permanent.

To bring someone back from the dead they would need a sacrifice – Mircea's original idea had been to use the very people who were now helping him.  
So many lives in exchange for one? Was that how it worked?

Maarten ran up the rest of the stairs, almost tripping at the top – he needed to find Veronique and Arthur.

The kitchen was empty; and the living room was only occupied by Annelise, Anika and Cecilé.

"Where's Veronique?" He asked, heaving for air.  
"The garden I believe," Cecilé replied, looking a little worried.  
"Something wrong?" Anika asked, furrowing her brow at her brother.

"Maybe. No. Not yet," Maarten spluttered, "I just need to ask her about something,"

"Okay..." Anika didn't seem to believe him.  
"Try the garden, if she's not here they may be in the attic,"

"Right," Maarten nodded and disappeared from view.

"Anyone else a little worried about him?" Anika asked quietly.  
"Not really," Cecilé shrugged, "He's not bleeding or dying, he'll be fine,"

Anika stared at the empty doorway worriedly, really hoping Cecilé was right.

Maarten did find Halldór in the garden – his white hair ruffled with leaves and plants as he had picked basket after basket full of herbs and flowers.

"Where's Veronique?" Maarten asked.  
"Attic," Halldór mumbled, "With Arthur,"  
"What are they doing up there?"  
"Drawing up runes last time I was there," Halldór shrugged.

"Right, thanks," Maarten spun on his heel and ran back inside and up the stairs, pausing momentarily at the bottom of the ladder leading up to the attic.

It was a huge room, with adequate room for Maarten to stand up comfortably – no low beams threatening to give him more scars to his forehead.  
Boxes of books, paperwork and glass vials filled with unknown things were neatly stacked around the place – carefully labelled, dated and numbered.  
Clearly a joint effort between Erik and Cecilé – neat freaks the both of them he concluded.  
Maarten liked that about them.

At the far end of the attic, Maarten spotted movement – and winding his way between boxes and crates and old furniture he made his way across the room.

"Oh hello Maarten," Arthur greeted him cheerily, giving him a smile and a small wave.

"You joining us?" Veronique asked, taking her eyes of her book for a moment to flash him a brief grin.

"No. Got a question for you," Maarten replied sternly, eyeing the numerous pieces of paper strewn across the floor.

"Fire away," Veronique giggled.

"Reviving someone requires sacrifice. There is no way can we do this without losing something. So... Exactly what are we sacrificing to bring back Mircea's brother?"

Arthur looked terribly uncomfortable, and Veronique tried to avert her gaze from Maarten's intense stare.

"Answer me," he demanded, crossing his arms and glaring right at Veronique.

"We... we can't tell you yet," Arthur said, standing up and brushing dust off his clothes.

"Yes you can. You will tell me, or everything stops right here, right _now_, understood?"

"No. You're not understanding us," Veronique huffed, refusing to stand up and instead meeting Maarten's glare with one of her own.

"Explain and maybe I will," Maarten sneered.

"No one's going to die, I assure you," Arthur stepped between them, trying to diffuse the situation.  
"And why should I trust you?"  
"Because you may not like me, and you may not believe me, but I do love your sister and I am not going to let her come to harm,"

"Liar," Maarten growled, growing impatient.  
"I refuse to be kept in the dark about this,"

"Trust us," Veronique interjected "The more people in the dark until the day the better,"

"I highly doubt that,"

"Look," Arthur sighed, "The less everyone knows the easier this will be,"  
"What exactly will be easier? An Ambush?" Maarten sneered – not even trusting Arthur as far as he could throw him.

"If the walls and roof didn't have ears and eyes, we could tell you. But we need this to be kept between three of us and three of us only,"

"Eyes and ears?" Maarten looked confused, turning his head to see if he could spot what Veronique was being so cryptic about.

"There are no spies in this house save maybe you Arthu-" he paused and stood still as a statue.

Below him he heard the faint voices of Mircea and Cecilé.

He could just about make out that Mircea was asking where he was, Cecilé explaining she had last seen Maarten rush to the gardens.

"Oh," he whispered to himself, turning his gaze towards Veronique and Arthur.

"See?" Arthur gestured.  
"Eyes and ears. Keep it on the low... Bats always have a knack for hanging from ceilings where you can't see them,"

Maarten nodded.

"Pests the lot of them," he grumbled.

"Sometimes a bit cute," Veronique added with a smirk and a light laugh.

"Sure," Maarten rolled his eyes, "I'll leave you guys to it. But I really, really hope you've got this under control. If not..." he trailed off, glaring at them both.

"Don't worry. It will be a night we'll all remember and live to tell the tale about," Arthur said confidently – smiling at Maarten.

"Sure..." Maarten shrugged and began making his way back downstairs.

"We hope," Veronique mouthed to Arthur once Maarten was out of earshot.  
"Hope won't do you good now," Arthur warned, "Skill, luck and determination on the other hand..."

"And a lot of help from everyone," Veronique sighed and collected her papers into one pile.  
"Let's hope the only blood we need to spill is voluntarily,"

"Yes," Arthur hummed, "Let's certainly hope so."


	17. Chapter 17

Halldór circled the underground room slowly, stopping to place down white marks once in a while. Behind him Arthur followed and lined the markers up to a circle.

Veronique was overseeing their work from above, pointing them in the right direction and correcting their mistakes.

"That looks pretty good, right?" Halldór asked, coiling up the thread he'd been using as a marker to ensure the circle was perfectly round.  
"Yes," Veronique smiled, "Now we need to make twelve smaller circles,"

"How big?" Arthur inquired, glancing over the giant circles he's standing within.

"About twenty centimetres diameter I'd say," Veronique squints and then nods,  
"Got it," Halldór nods and begins marking the smaller circles up.

Arthur and Veronique both followed a few steps behind him, carefully drawing a rune up within each circle and adding a bowl of offerings and ingredients.  
Earth from a graveyard.  
Water from a river – taken during full moon.  
Ash from a burnt Cyprus tree.

Black salt mixed with myrrh.  
A bowl of quarts crystals in rose water.  
Mug worth and dragons blood incense.

Each item was placed with uttermost care within each circle, not a millimetre out of place.

They had to make this perfect. They only got one try.

Erik had provided them with six stone bowls, containing the compounds for a human child's body.

Every second circle contained these stone bowls, alongside a white skull candle that was to be lit once it all began.

"Ready?" Veronique asked.

"Yes," Halldór and Arthur nodded.

"Good," She smiled, trying to ease her own worry, "Now we just need Mircea and the rest,"

"Here's hoping he'll do it..." Halldór mumbled.

"He has to," Arthur whispered, "He'd gone this far. Surely he'll do a little more?"  
"Yeah..." Halldór nodded, "I imagine so,"

"He has nothing to lose, everything to gain," Veronique reminded them with a smile. 

* * *

Mircea was staring at Erik and the needle in his hand with fascination.  
"It's actually working?" his eyes traced every movement of Erik's hands.  
"Of course it is,"  
"But how?!"

"Mixed the pigments with holy water and garlic juice,"  
"You're fucking with me,"  
"Nope," Erik smirked.

"Wow..." Mircea stared at the tattoo on his wrist.

"And this is going to be helpful to get my brother back?"

"Yes," Erik nodded, "Veronique said so..."

"A passport to death..." Mircea mumbled, "Never thought that it would be a tattoo,"  
"Me neither," Erik chuckled, "But here we are,"

"Didn't know you could tattoo either,"  
"I can draw and I can handle a needle. Same thing," Erik shrugged and went back to work on the hexagon shape on Mircea's wrist.  
He had asked what shape Mircea wanted, and after some thought they'd decided on a hexagon with a triangle in the middle.  
Simple but enough to hopefully open up a portal.

"So let me get this right," Mircea mumbled as Erik cleaned of the excess ink.  
"This will gain me entrance to the world of the dead?"  
"Yes,"  
"And I'll use it to bring back my brother?"

"Partly," Erik shrugged "If I understand correctly, you'll need to pull out your brothers soul yourself. Or at least guide it back to our world,"  
"And a tattoo is going to help me how?" Mircea looked suspiciously at Erik and the tattoo needle.

"Not sure, Arthur told me it works like a stamp at a museum. A proof that you've paid to enter,"  
"But I haven't paid anything,"

"Maybe you'll do that later?" Erik shrugged.  
"But pay with what? Money?"  
"Don't ask me. I don't talk to the dead,"  
"Yeah you do," Mircea laughed, "You even sleep with one,"

"That's different," Erik hissed.

"No it's not," Mircea grinned, however; before Erik could strangle him, he vanished out of sight – his laughter lingering in the room for a moment before it went silent.

"Fuck," Erik gritted his teeth.  
Tonight it was now or never.

It was all or nothing.

However; no matter how often he went through the plan in his head – Erik feared something would go wrong.  
He feared Mircea would turn on them all – break his promise and go back to his original idea of using them all as sacrifices.

He shuddered at the thought.

They were so close to end it all. So close to ensure safety for so many.  
Yet it all fell down to Mircea and if he was willing to give up the only thing he still had left to lose.

"You're looking a little tense," Cecilé hummed from the doorway.  
"Yeah," Erik grumbled, rubbing his temples and smiling tiredly at her, "Hard to relax..."  
"Everything will work out, you'll see," She laughed softly, pushing him back in his chair and taking a seat on his lap.

"Glad one of us has some faith in all of this,"  
"One of us has to be the optimist,"  
"Well you always were the one to gamble on luck,"  
"And so far I've done very well, haven't I?"

"Yeah," Erik chuckled, "You have. Unless you count that you lost that bet with me that you'd never want more than one date," he added with a smirk.

"Well, what can I say," Cecilé laughed, "You won me over,"  
"Best bet I ever made," Erik grinned, pressing a soft kiss to her neck.

"Of course. With a prize like this," Cecilé smirked.  
"Wait... I thought I was your prize?" Erik gave her a puzzled look.  
"You are," she laughed, "but sometimes I let you pretend I'm yours too,"  
"How kind of you," Erik snorted.  
"I know," Cecilé smiled and kissed the tip of his nose.

"So," Erik mumbled, "do you really think this will all work?"  
"I have faith in you all," Cecilé whispered softly, "And if he loves his brother as much as you love yours, I think he'll do as we say,"

"Thank you," Erik mumbled, resting his head on her shoulder and wrapping his arms around her waist.

"Any time," Cecilé whispered, running her own hands through his hair, enjoying the feel of his heartbeat and the sound of his chest rising and falling with each breath.  
She'd never been aware how noisy humans truly were until she ceased being one.  
Whereas she'd loved silence before, there was something special about the 'noises' Erik made.  
The sound of his blood rushing through his veins or the way his feet sounded when he walked across the floor.

Cecilé memorised each new sound.  
She could hear his heartbeat with ease; perfectly tuned in to notice the slightest change.  
Nervous or relaxed.  
Tired or excited.

He might try to lie, but she read him better than an open book in daylight. 

* * *

Maarten was nothing short of impressed by the magic circle, although when he took a step closer he was greeted by a snarling Veronique.  
"Careful,"she hissed, and Maarten immediately backed away.

"I wasn't going to touch,"

"Good," Veronique glared at him.

Maarten swallowed nervously, and took a few more steps away from the circle.

"Everyone here?" Francis asked.  
"Roll call!" Gilbert yelled.

"Erik?"  
"Here,"  
"Arthur?"  
"Present..."  
"Course you fucking are," Gilbert rolled his eyes.

Anika held her hand over Arthur's mouth before he could argue back.

"Maarten?"  
"Mrrm..." Maarten grumbled in reply.  
"Halldór?"  
"Yes..."

"Cecilé and Veronique?"  
"Yes and yes," Veronique answered for them both.

"Mircea's dead brother's bones?" Gilbert looked up from his imaginary piece of paper.  
"Yeah they're here," Maarten said and glanced at the bones Mircea and Arthur had carefully arranged in the middle of the circle.  
It was a bit creepy having the skull stare at them with empty eyes, but he shrugged it off.  
He'd seen worse things really.

"Did I forget anyone?" Gilbert glanced across the room, "Well.. minus Mircea. Where did that fucker go?"

"Here!" Mircea called from the ceiling, appearing on the ground with Annelise in his arms.  
"She wanted to come too,"

"What?" Erik glared at Mircea, "Put her back in the house,"  
"But..." Mircea looked sad, "She's so cute..."  
"Put her back," Erik demanded once more.

"If you don't mind Mister... could I please stay?" Annelise looked at Erik with hopeful eyes.

"Uh..." Erik glanced at the others, receiving only a shrug from Francis and Gilbert.

"Well..."Arthur coughed, "If you stay to the sides and be quiet. Yes,"

"Of course," Annelise smiled sweetly and curtsied.

"Why did you bring her?" Maarten hissed under his breath to Mircea.  
"She's what...eight?" Mircea whispered back,  
"Yes. So why the hell did you bring her,"

"My little brother is, uh, or was. Well. Will still be eight? You get the point," Mircea waves his hand, "So... I thought it would be nice for him to wake up to someone his age around too,"

Maarten had no coherent reply.

"Fine, whatever. Get your ass into the circle with the rest," he pushed Mircea towards Veronique.

"Everyone ready?" Arthur asked, and everyone nodded.

"Right," He took a deep breath.  
"Halldór and I will chant the runes. Veronique will guide you through the rest, unless she tells you to do anything, everyone must remain silent and as still as possible, understood?"

More nods around the room.

"Good," Arthur cleared his throat.  
"Mircea, if you please. Light all the candles,"

"With pleasure," he laughed, and Maarten had to take a step to the side to avoid a candle catching his coat.

Silence fell over the room, and despite the several candles burning brightly, there was a terrible chill in the air.

"Raising the dead isn't easy," Arthur had explained to them all earlier.  
"We could end up getting more than we bargained for. So be ready to take cover and hide,"

"Noted," Maarten grumbled and felt for his gun.

Arthur and Halldór's chanting was nothing short of mesmerizing.  
Maarten didn't understand the rune's meaning, nor did he really know what was supposed to happen.

Mircea seemed as lost as him, although he did stand perfectly still next to his brother's bones.

Slowly the circle seemed to move, or maybe it was the whole room?  
Maarten wasn't sure, but he felt dizzy none the less.

The candles around them seemed to burn faster and brighter until the whole room went dark and all Maarten could hear was Halldór and Arthur chanting softly far, far away.

He wanted to move, ask if anyone else was still standing.  
But they'd said to keep quiet.  
He couldn't ruin that now.

Slowly his eyes began to adjust to the unnatural darkness.  
The candles were still burning, but the air had turned dark and thick like fog around them.

Blinking, Maarten managed to make out the silhouette of Mircea in front of him.  
He was reaching for something, or in this case, more like someone.

The candles flickered and for a brief flash of a second Maarten saw everything clear as day.

The passport tattoo on Mircea's wrist had worked – a crack in the dark fog around them had opened, and something was stirring beyond it.

He was looking at the souls of the dead – the realisation alone made Maarten feel uneasy.  
It was unnatural. It felt wrong.  
He wasn't meant to see this.

But he did.  
He watched as Mircea plunged his hand inside the crack, returning with a small flicker of a blue flame in his palm.

"Ciprian..." Mircea whispered to the tiny flame in his hands.  
"He's fading..." he looked at Veronique with worry and fear, and Maarten felt Mircea's anger rise.  
"Why is he fading?"

"You need to sacrifice something to allow him to stay," Veronique explained softly, pointing to where his brother's bones had been earlier.  
However; the bowls around them were empty, and in place of the bones was the body of a little boy.

Maarten braced himself for what was to come.

"What do I give them?"  
"What are you willing to give?" Veronique asked.

"Anything," Mircea replied immediately, his voice as hard as his resolve.

"Good," Veronique smiled, "Give them your magic,"

"Magic?" Mircea gaped, "But..." he trailed off, aware the flame in his hands was ebbing away slowly.  
"All of it. Every last drop. In return, you get your brother back,"

Mircea stared at the body of his brother, then to the crack in the fog – the gate to the afterlife.

"You better chose fast," Veronique warned, and Maarten saw Mircea's unease.

"Hurry," she said once more, as the flame in Mircea's hand began to flicker.

"Do it!" Mircea yelled, "They can have it all!"

The room fell silent, plunged into darkness once more.

Maarten stood as still as he could, aware that something was moving around the edge of the circle where they stood.  
Something was hiding.

Maarten reached for his gun under his cloak, not liking the cold chill creeping up from the floor.

Don't make a sound. Don't move.  
Don't break the silence.  
Don't ruin this now.

He repeated the words in his mind over and over, hoping and praying to any god he could think off that no one got hurt.  
He hoped this was the gate to the afterlife playing tricks on them all.  
He hoped this was all going to be over soon.  
The darkness and silence was stifling, and Maarten realised he was scared.

Loneliness had never felt this heavy before.

Eyes open or closed – it didn't matter. He saw nothing either way.

A scream somewhere far in the distance made him reach out and before he could curse himself for moving; the darkness around him disappeared.

The candles flickered around him, as bright as they had before.

Maarten did a quick headcount.

Francis, Gilbert, Anika? Yes. All there.  
Erik, Cecilé, Halldór, Veronique? Yes. They too.  
Annelise? Maarten let out a sight of relief.  
The little girl was still here unharmed, looking just a little paler than when they began.

"Who screamed?" Anika asked softly, and slowly everyone turned to Mircea and Veronique.

Mircea was on the floor, cradling his brother in his arms.  
Whispers of "Ciprian, Ciprian, please wake up," was all they could hear.

"Did... did it work?" Cecilé asked softly, scared to break the silence.  
Erik shrugged.

"Ciprian..." Mircea sobbed, and Maarten decided he could move now for sure.

"Mircea," He tried carefully, kneeling down to the floor.

"Please," Mircea sobbed, and Maarten glanced up at Veronique.  
He wanted to know what had gone wrong, but she seemed as puzzled as the rest.

"Move," Erik shoved Maarten out of the way, "What a fucking useless doctor you are," he hissed as he pried the boy's body from Mircea's arms.

"NO!" Mircea yelled, but Maarten was quick to hold him back.

He didn't know what was in the syringes Erik had in his hands, nor did anyone else seem to know either.  
Mircea struggled against him, but the strength he had once possessed seemed to have left him completely.

"Shhh," Maarten tried to sooth him, watching Erik's every move.

Cecilé was quick to his side, blocking Mircea's view of his brother's lifeless body.

Maarten could feel Mircea's whole body shake with sobs in his arms, and he wished he knew how to make him stop.

Everyone seemed to hold their breath, and the seconds felt like hours as they ticked by one by one.

A gasp made Mircea snap his head up.

"Thank the gods," Erik mumbled and Cecilé moved out of Mircea's view.

Maarten let Mircea go out of pure shock.

A breath.  
Ciprian had taken a breath.  
And then another.

They had brought him back.

They'd cheated death. Broken rules that should never have been broken.  
They had done what everyone would have considered impossible.

Tears were rolling down Mircea's cheeks once more, but the smile on his face as he once more hugged his brother against him spoke of a much happier future.


	18. Chapter 18

The house was eerily quiet.  
No one wanted to speak about what they had seen or not seen.  
No one wanted to acknowledge the fear they had all felt.

Francis and Gilbert spoke to one another with sign language – hands moving rapidly but with no sound uttered between them.  
Maarten watched them 'talk', unable to decipher their conversation but not eager enough to ask them to let him join in. He briefly wondered if he should ask them why they knew how to speak with no words, but he quickly remembered they had been alive for so long that surely they'd realised the benefit of speaking sign language.

Cecilé and Erik seemed to speak with no sound or motion – Maarten having given up understanding the pair of them ages ago.  
However, the one he was worried the most about was Mircea.

He didn't speak, didn't eat and the smile that had been so easy for him to wear before was now gone.

Everyone cast a worried glance each time they passed his room, but no one dared open the door or even knock.  
Maarten was certain they were all thinking the same thing.

Mircea's brother hadn't woken up yet – and no one knew if he ever would.

His fingers itched to knock on the door and ask how they were both doing.  
Maarten had even dug out his stethoscope from under his bed, fiddling with it every night and wondering if there was anything he could do.

He'd healed the living, and with Erik's help; the un-dead too.

This was different.  
The kid had been dead for gods know how long, and Maarten wasn't sure a soul could survive without a body for that many years.

"You know what?" Gilbert said after lunch, breaking the week long silence of the household, "Fuck this. Drag him out of there and make him face reality,"  
"That's a little harsh, don't you think?" Anika sighed, "This must be like losing him all over a again,"

"And he was so close to getting him back too," Veronique frowned and stared at the few drops of tea still left in her cup.

"Maybe the kid just needs rest?" Arthur suggested as he poured himself what had to be about the tenth cup of tea today.

"Rest? For more than a week?" Gilbert looked suspicious.

"Yes," Arthur nodded, "His soul was separated from his body for so long it might take time for it to fully, eh, ease back into the body," he waved his hand, almost spilling his tea in the process.

"So how long till he wakes up?" Erik asked.

"I don't know. I've only ever woken newly dead people up for short periods of time. Never someone who's been so dead and long gone... and never permanently," Arthur shrugged and let out a exhausted sigh.

"What do we do if he never wakes up?" Halldór asked, glancing at each person in turn. No one replied.

Arthur opened his mouth to say something, but promptly shut it when they heard the sound of shuffling feet over carpet from the hallway.

"Hey..." Mircea greeted them from the doorway, eyes red from what Maarten assumed to be from days of crying.

"Welcome to the social circle," Francis said with a smile,  
"Thanks... I think I'm going crazy..." Mircea grumbled, "Well, more so than usual," he added with a slight chuckle as he sunk down next to Maarten on the sofa.

"How so?" Maarten asked carefully.  
"I'm counting his breaths. 18 in one minute. 21 the next. Then 19. 15. 24..." Mircea counted on his fingers, staring at the tattoo on his wrist with a vacant look.

"Have you had anything to drink or eat yet?" Anika asked worriedly.  
"No," Mircea shook his head. "I tried to, uh, summon something and then realised that didn't work," he frowned and scratched at the tattoo on his wrist as if it was the sole reason for his magic disappearing.

"I just, feel empty," he sighed, sinking further down into the sofa, "Empty and weak. Worthless..."

"You'll get used to it," Cecilé offered with a smile, "After all; this isn't as bad as what it could have been," she added.

"Got nothing left to lose now..." Mircea mumbled.

"Only way is forwards and up then!" Anika smiled brightly.

"Mhm," Mircea mumbled and leant his head against Maarten's shoulder.

Maarten tensed and was about to shove Mircea away; however, the tired expression on his face made him change his mind – besides, no one else seemed to notice or care.

Silence filled the room once more, until Maarten felt a chill down his spine.

He turned his head, worried for a moment that the thing he had felt the presence off in the summoning circle was back – but there was nothing there out of the ordinary.

"Something wrong?" Erik asked.

"No. I just thought there was something... here," Maarten grumbled.

"The chilly sensation?" Anika asked.  
"The whispers?" Francis added.

Maarten stared at them.

"You guys saw the thing too?"

"Yes," Cecilé nodded.  
"We all did I believe. Whatever it was," Erik frowned.

"It's here...," Veronique whispered.

Mircea sat up straight and scanned the room.

"Fuck," he whispered.

"What?" Maarten looked at him, "What's wrong?"

"Who exactly got my magic?" Mircea asked.

"Well that would be the..." Arthur stopped, a worried look on his face.

"Be who?" Maarten asked.

"The...gate keepers, I think..." Arthur said and swallowed nervously.

"What?" Francis and Maarten said in unison.

"Someone had to check Mircea's 'passport' to see if he would be let in," Arthur began,  
"And they did. He was allowed access to the land of the dead. But the guards to the other world got his magic – and it's likely one of them kept it,"

"So the chill we're feeling, the sense of unease?" Erik looked worried.

"Someone who is supposed to be neutral potentially just got a hold of a lot of power. Yes," Arthur nodded.

"You're telling me there's someone else loose on the world now with my magic?" Mircea's eyes flickered across the room.  
"Shit," Maarten uttered under his breath, "That's bad, really, really, really bad,"

"Probably worse than that," Francis added, folding his hands in his lap and staring intently at Mircea.

"Mircea forgot how to do more thinks than he could. Now we've got a strange creature out there , who may have the potential to access every trick Mircea ever had but then forgot,"

"So someone might know how to control vampires?" Anika asked, silencing the room.

Maarten was certain there was cold sweat running down his back.

"Great, we're all dead," Gilbert sighed and put his head in his hands, groaning loudly.

"I hate to be the one to point out the obvious..." Erik rolled his eyes, "But most of you already are dead,"  
"Shut the fuck up Erik," Gilbert hissed, "Not funny,"  
"Yes it is," Erik chuckled.  
"Do you want to die too maybe?"  
"Not by your hand no. And you'd have to get by her first," he motioned to Cecilé who simply smiled sweetly at Gilbert.

"If you weren't so fucking useful I'd strangle you on the spot," Gilbert hissed and went back to moping. Francis gave his friend a sympathetic pat to the shoulder.

"So we've now got to find whatever creature is lurking around?" Anika asked.  
"Yes..." Arthur nodded.  
"Maybe we can help?" Annelise said softly, "My brother may be able to sniff the thing out,"

"Hrm," Arthur tapped his chin and thought it over, "That might work," he said after a while.

"Basch is kinda unique right now. He listens to Annelise and can definitively move faster when he wants to," Francis smiled.  
"I never understood how that worked..." Anika mumbled, "The monster forms look like they'd be slower and struggle to move..."

"Actually," Mircea said and clapped his hands, "I can explain this,"

"Please do," Maarten mumbled.

"We need blood to keep our own blood from coagulating completely. Or to be more precise – we need some part of human blood to keep our own bodies moving. Hence why starving a vampire makes us lethargic and stiff,"

"Like a corpse," Halldór added with a grimace.

"Yes," Mircea laughed, "The 'monsters' are the opposite. They've consumed too much blood and thus their bodies start to work on over drive,"

"Too much nutrients for your dead bodies to work with, so it manifests as mutations..." Erik mused out loud.  
"Precisely," Mircea said with a smile, "Of course, possessing magic helps to keep things in check, but not all vampires are as good as others at using magic, so you can't always rely on magic to keep your body 'normal',"

"I see..." Maartne mumbled.

"So blood thinners would be a bad idea for us?" Cecilé asked.

"Yes," Mircea nodded.

"I'm going to go hide all my aspirin," Erik grumbled, "Just in case Gilbert decides to get drunk on them or something,"

"I'd never," Gilbert hissed.  
"Francis then," Erik shrugged.  
"Hey now, that's harsh," Francis frowned, "I've only dissolved one or two into my wine on a few occasions,"

Erik sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"What about how you all still eat, uh, human food?" Anika asked.

"Normal food doesn't satisfy the hunger for blood, but it can in the long run keep it a little bit more at bay," Francis said, "We're not hungry for normal food, but it still tastes good, and it fills time,"

"Yeah," Gilbert nodded, "Francis has been cooking for centuries now. You should see his wedding cakes,"

"You make wedding cakes?" Cecilé and Anika burst out in unison, eyes twinkling with glee.  
"Yes," Francis smiled triumphantly, "I've spent my immortal years learning some useful tricks and skills,"

"You guys should hear Gilbert on the flute," Veronique added with a laugh, "He's really good,"

"Shut up," Gilbert hissed, cheeks tinted pink as he tried to look intimidating.

"Hobbies are good to have," Anika giggled happily.

"As long as they don't involve raising the dead," Halldór rolled his eyes.  
"Shut it. You helped this time," Arthur grumbled.

"Did anyone else hear that?" Cecilé interjected, and the whole room fell silent. Unease and fear once more floating through the room like thick fog.

"Hear what?" Francis eventually whispered.

"A door creaking..." Cecilé replied quietly.  
"A lot of doors creak in here," Gilbert reminded her with a grimace.

"Yes. But no doors should be opened if we're all here..." Cecilé squeezed Erik's hand and looked at the others worriedly.

Everyone held their breath and listened for any more noises – nothing at first, but slowly something appeared to move at the the end of the hallway.

Shuffled footsteps across the carpet.

Maarten glanced at Mircea – who was staring at the living room door as if mesmerized.

The footsteps came closer and closer, slow and shuffled steps closing in before coming to a halt outside the heavy wooden door.

Mircea rose from the sofa and stepped towards the entrance – Maarten was about to reach over and drag the vampire back down when the door swung open.

Maarten hadn't heard Mircea make any kind of noise like this – a mix of a yelp and a very high-pitched scream as he ran to the door.

The others stared in awe.

Ciprian was standing in the doorway, rubbing his still sleep filled eyes and looking very lost.

It was impossible not to stare as Mircea hugged his little brother so hard Maarten was certain the little boy was chocking.

"Mircea, he's turning blue," Erik warned.

"AH! Sorry!" Mircea let Ciprian go, holding him by the shoulders at arm's length before he hugged the boy once more – just with a little less force.

Anika and Cecilé smiled to themselves at the scene, flashing each other knowing smiles.

"Brother," Ciprian mumbled, trying to push the older vampire away from him.  
"Who are they?" he asked quietly.

"Friends," Mircea laughed and ruffled Ciprian's dark hair with a wide grin.

"Friends?" Ciprian repeated and eyes the others in the room worriedly, "But you said-,"  
"Shh... forget what I said," Mircea smiled, "These ones are nice, I promise,"

Maarten felt a horrible twisting sensation in his stomach at the words.  
The sincerity in Mircea's words hurt.

"Come here," Mircea laughed and picked up his brother, all worry of losing his magic forgotten for now.  
"You need to meet them properly,"

Ciprian hid his face in Mircea's shirt, but with a little coaxing he did manage to shyly introduce himself.

"Lovely to meet you," Anika smiled sweetly, and Ciprian blushed several shades of red – mumbling something about very pretty ladies.

Maarten was happy for Mircea, and it seemed he had gotten his wish that Ciprian didn't remember how he died. Or that he had been dead at all.

If Maarten hadn't know the truth, he too would have gotten the impression that Ciprian had just woken up from a nap.  
The boy was rubbing his eyes, yawning and clinging to his brother like a baby.  
Mircea didn't seem to mind in the slightest.

It was almost a normal scene.

However, Maarten still felt a chill down his spine, and he was positive it wasn't from natural causes.  
Something was still lurking in the house; but for now it was keeping it's distance.  
Maarten could only hope they caught 'it' before it caught _them_.


	19. Chapter 19

Mircea was on cloud nine. Or ten. Possibly twenty.  
They'd lost count of how many times they saw him strutting happily around the house with Ciprian in tow – explaining every new found thing to the little boy with glee (although it was Erik who had to explain how the telephone _worked_).

The others tried their best to make Ciprian feel welcome, Anika especially – doting on the little boy just as much as she dotted on Annelise.  
Maarten joked that she should just adopt the two of them.  
Said comment had earned him a dirty look from Mircea and a growl from Basch; although Annelise quickly made him be quiet once more.

It was only occasionally that Maarten felt a chill run down his spine – usually when he was alone and when darkness had settled over the house.

Flat on his back on his bed, all alone in his room with only his own thoughts – that's when it seemed to strike the most.  
Maarten didn't want to worry the others – no one else had mentioned anything and he was beginning to think it was just his own imagination.

Ciprian was running around the house with Annelise – Mircea and Basch at their tails in what was possibly the weirdest game of tag ever witnessed by anyone.

"I'm happy for him don't get me wrong," Gilbert mumbled angrily to himself as he and Maarten sat in Erik's library and drank.  
"I'm just really angry..."

"Angry?" Maarten asked and poured Gilbert another drink, "How so?"

"Well... jealous maybe," Gilbert sighed.

Maarten sipped his own drink in silence and waited for Gilbert to speak again. He'd seen this before in people -patients who'd start a conversation and never finish it if they were interrupted.

"Yeah, it's good he got his brother back. But it just feels so unfair that he got a second chance..."

"Mhm," Maarten hummed, "It's only natural,"

"It's just... my brother deserved a second chance too," Gilbert sighed and placed his glass down on the table between them, bending over to rest his head in his hands.  
Maarten watched him take several deep breaths to calm himself.

"Not everyone can be brought back," Maarten reminded him, "For some it's probably better that they remain where they now are..."

"Maybe..." Gilbert muttered, "It still makes me so mad to see Ciprian run around so happily,"

"Yeah, especially when being chased by Basch. Not many 8-year old's can keep a smile on their face when that happens,"

Gilbert snorted at Maarten's words and looked up – a small smile forming on his lips.

"Suppose having Mircea for a brother kind of fucks you up a bit,"  
"Definitively," Maarten laughed, stopping abruptly as he felt the cold chill down his spine.  
It was now more annoying than frightening.

"Something wrong?" Gilbert asked.

"Did you feel a cold chill just now?"

"No..."

"Must be my imagination then," Maarten shrugged it off and emptied his glass.

"Explain," Gilbert grumbled and glared at him, eyes glowing red for a moment.  
Maarten hated when they did that.

"It's nothing. I just feel a odd chill from time to time. Usually at night," he shrugged.

"So that thing is still here?"  
"I don't know," Maarten grumbled, "All I ever get is a chill – nothing else. No sounds or noises. Nothing but a sense of horror down my spine,"

"Have you told anyone else?"  
"No,"  
"Why not?"  
"Because I figured it's just me being overly cautious. No one else feels anything,"

"No one else is half vampire," Gilbert said coolly.

"What's that got to do with me being the only one to fee-,"  
Maarten dropped his glass and stood up quickly; a frightened expression on his face.

"There we go," Gilbert rolled his eyes, "You sure are slow to catch on these days,"

"Have you done anything out of the ordinary?" Maarten grabbed Gilbert by his shirt and shook the vampire hard.

"N-no. I-I Ha-have n-n-no-not," Gilbert uttered shakily as she tried to push against Maarten's hands.

"Shit," Maarten cursed and let Gilbert go, sending the vampire tumbling back down into his chair.  
"We got to find the others now," he commanded and Gilbert nodded weakly as he tried to fix his crumpled shirt.

Erik and Cecilé were not at all pleased to be woken up by Maarten – least of all when he smelled of alcohol.

"If this isn't important I'm going to kill you," Erik grumbled sleepily, duvet wrapped around his waist as he glared tiredly at Maarten.

"Get dressed and get the others," Maarten barked at him angrily, "You can hate me later,"

"Too late," Erik mumbled as he turned around, "Already do,"

Maarten paced back and forth in the living room as the others joined him one by one – most of them in pyjamas and bathrobes.  
If he wasn't so scared he would have laughed at the pink and white striped night cap on Basch's head. Annelise was sitting on his back, not at all phased by the fact that her brother was a terrifying monster.

"Please, this better be important," Francis sighed.  
"Yes, Francis is losing his precious beauty sleep here," Arthur rolled his eyes and yawned.

"I'll be brief," Maarten growled.

He stood up straight and stared at the others sitting around him.

"Has anyone else felt the chill?" he asked, and got a collective shake of heads.  
"Has anyone heard anything?" again – no nods.

"Right, has anyone done anything out of the ordinary, or seen someone else do anything out of the ordinary?"

The question made everyone pause, worried glances being exchanged from one to another.

"No...," Veronique shook her head, "I don't think so,"  
"What if that's what it wants us to think?"

"Who?" Mircea asked, and Maarten felt like throwing his shoe at the vampire.

"The guardian. Or whatever it was who let you pass through the gate. Someone got your powers. Someone could be manipulating you all and you'd never notice!"

The silence that filled the room was so thick Maarten could cut it with his dagger.

"But Annelise, Erik and I are still human," Anika argued softly, "And Arthur is.. uh, Arthur?"  
"Thank you my dear," Arthur scoffed.

"So you don't feel it either. But I'm in the middle. I've got one foot on each side here," Maarten explained.  
"What if the chill is the thing trying to control me too?"

"Control?" Ciprian piped up, yawning as he spoke.  
"Shh," Mircea stroked his hair softly, "Don't worry,"

Maarten studied the kid in Mircea's arms – this was the reason he could sleep at night.  
One small child was apparently worth more trouble than anyone had ever thought he ever would be.

"Control what?" Cirpian asked again, looking at Mircea with wide and curious eyes.  
"Uhh, the monsters in the basement," Mircea lied, "But don't worry, once we turn them back to proper vampires they won't be any threat,"

"Proper vampires?" Cirpian repeated and yawned, "Will that take long?"  
"No one knows," Erik interjected.  
"Oh," Ciprian sighed, "Shame," he rubbed his eyes and settled back against Mircea's chest, sound asleep in an instant.

"Look, maybe I'm wrong, but if I'm right we could all be in a lot of danger," Maarten furrowed his brows and ran a hand through his hair.

"Agreed," Francis nodded, "Better to err on the side of caution,"

"But if this thing can control most of us, and sneak past the rest unnoticed, how do we fight it?" Veronique asked, scratching her head and frowning.

"Set traps? Ask for help from someone else?" Halldór suggested.  
"We don't know what this thing even looks like. Maybe it has no solid form!" Arthur added and threw his arms in the air, "We could be up against anything and everything and nothing all at once!"

"Wonderful," Maarten groaned, "We're fighting an all powerful being who no one can see," he sighed.

"If I didn't know better I'd say we just picked a fight with a god," Erik rolled his eyes.

"Well why not?" Gilbert shrugged, "We've picked a fight with everyone else by now haven't we?"  
"Including ourselves," Francis mused with a smirk.

"Would you three stay serious for longer than five seconds?" Maarten sneered.

"Only if you ask nicely," Gilbert grinned.

Maarten snarled and draw his gun, aiming it straight at Gilbert's heart.  
"I can think of several reasons to shoot you, and only a third of them are due to you being annoying,"

"You're the gun crazy vampire hunter," Gilbert sneered, "I'm just trying to lighten the mood,"  
"I have every reason not to trust anyone in this room right now, so don't give me any more reasons to pull this trigger," Maarten said through gritted teeth.

No one moved and no one spoke, the only sound echoing through the room was the grandfather clock ticking rhythmically in the corner.

"Maarten," Anika said sternly, "Put the gun down,"

"No," he bit back.

"Maarten," Anika said once more, her tone lower and her glare cold, "Put. The. Gun. Down,"

Reluctantly, Maarten lowered his weapon, glare still intact and aimed at Gilbert as he slowly placed the gun back in its holster.

"So..." Halldór coughed, "Maarten is the only one feeling the weird chill?"

"It would appear so,"

"So potentially no one but Maarten is in danger?" Halldór looked around at the confused expressions etched onto the other's faces.

"You could all be in danger," Maarten hissed, "If that thing can control vampires then you're the ones dancing to its tune, not me,"

"But it won't kill its greatest weapons or puppets, now will it?" Halldór shrugged.

"But are we even its greatest 'weapons'?" Veronique asked, "Mircea was the one with the most powerful magic, the rest of us only know children's party tricks in comparison,"

Francis hummed and seemed deep in thought at her words, Gilbert appeared to be far more concerned and interested in the celling.

"Am I the only one worried here?" Maarten sneered.

"Well, if it wanted any of us dead it would have had plenty of opportunities to do so already..." Veronique argued.  
"Maybe you're just too cautious?" Anika said softly, giving him a sympathetic smile.

"Something is lurking around this house and you think I'm being too cautious?!" Maarten growled angrily at her, realising a little too late that Anika seemed genuinely terrified of him.

"Sorry," he sighed and rubbed his temples, "Sorry..." he mumbled again, hanging his head low in shame.

"Maybe we should sleep on it," Erik suggested and rose from his seat, "Fatigue may just be catching up with us all,"

"Being tired is so weird," Mircea mumbled, "No wonder you drink so much coffee Erik,"  
"So you're the one drinking my coffee?" Erik looked terribly unamused at Mircea as the vampire flashed him a grin at the accusation.

"Hey now, you've got plenty! And I'm not hiding it any more!"

"A small thing to be grateful for," Erik sighed and held his hand out for Cecilé to take.

"So can we go back to bed?" Annelise asked with a yawn, Basch making a weird growl that Maarten figured had to be his version of a yawn. Freaky.

"Yes, we can discuss this more in the mornin-" Erik was cut off as a loud and bone chilling howl sounded from the basement.

"What the fuck was that?" Gilbert's eyes were wide.  
"The... vampires?" Arthur offered and looked at Basch and Annelise.

"Why are they howling?" Maarten directed his question to Basch, who only shrugged his deformed shoulders.

Everyone stood still as statues as another howl sounded through the house.

"The neighbours are so going to hate me," Erik groaned,

"Shall we, uh, take a look?" Cecilé asked softly, gripping her husband's hand tightly.

"Yes," Maarten nodded and withdrew his gun, marching out of the living room without waiting for the rest.

"So... why wants to go with him?" Anika looked at the rest.

"Oh for fucks sake," Gilbert rolled his eyes and stomped out of the room after the Dutchman.  
"I should probably go too, yeah?" Mircea looked at Ciprian still sleeping soundly in his arms.

"Possibly," Francis nodded,  
"Fine," Mircea sighed, "Someone look after Cirpian then, just in case he wakes up,"

Erik accepted the sleeping boy as Mircea ran out the room as fast as he could.  
Although Erik was quick to place the sleeping boy onto the sofa, he had no plns to hold the boy for however long Mircea was going to be gone for.

"Well there goes that plan of sleeping," Arthur grumbled bitterly to himself.  
"We might as well go make more coffee and tea," Anika sighed.

"Hey," Annelise interjected, "Basch is... shaking,"

"What?" Francis turned to the siblings and stared in shock at Basch clearly shivering and shaking from pain on the floor.

"What's going on?" Annelise whispered worriedly, kneeling next to her brother and holding his head in her lap.

"I... I don't know," Erik whispered, "None of the others ever did that before. Serum or no serum,"

"Can't you do anything?" Annelise begged,  
"But I don't know what's wrong," Erik bit his lip and stepped closer, trying to locate any kind of familiar pulse points – but his search yielded nothing. Monsters in human form he could cope with – but Basch wasn't even remotely human looking any more and his thick, dark and cold skin was like stone. No heat, no movement. Only cold.

Basch writhed and twitched around on the floor regardless of Annelise's hushed prayers for him to stop; he whimpered and yelped until he seemed to find a comfortable position – and then his entire body stiffened.

Annelise paled and tried to shake him, but to no use – Basch didn't stir or wake.


	20. Chapter 20

Maarten wasted no time in getting downstairs, but he halted just long enough to let Mircea and Gilbert catch up – Mircea somewhat breathless and cursing his lack of magic.

"Can you hear anything?" Maarten asked.

"Heavy breathing and whimpering," Gilbert said in a low tone.  
"What the hell happened?" Maarten asked no one specifically – frowning deeply as he tried to imagine what was waiting for them.

"Let's go," Maarten nodded towards the door after a moment and Gilbert slowly reached over to turn the handle.

The door creaked a little as it opened slowly; but to their relief nothing jumped out.

Slowly and silently they entered the laboratory – weapons drawn and senses alert to any noise or movement.

Nothing.  
There was nothing out of the ordinary at first glance.

"What the fuck made them all so rowdy?" Gilbert asked and stepped closer to the cells.  
"I mean, they don't feel very much pa-," he stopped and gaped.

"What's the matter?" Mircea snuck closer to peek over Gilbert's shoulders.  
"Look," Gilbert pointed, and Maarten decided he probably should see this too.

The creatures in the cells were on the floor – or more accurately: former creatures.

In the place of twisted and deformed monsters lay humans.

Maarten gaped. He couldn't believe his own eyes; rubbing them vigorously until he saw stars.  
Nothing changed. The creatures had turned back to their original form.

"But they hadn't made any progress..." he muttered as he walked down to check on the other cells.  
Each one was the same.

Where the monsters had once been – humans now lay in their place.  
Or humans in shape at least.

Maarten didn't doubt they were still vampires.

"How the hell did they all go back to their human forms so quickly?" Gilbert asked and glanced at Mircea; who only shrugged nonchalantly.

"Oh great, the gatekeeper is nice now?" Gilbert grumbled.  
"To be fair, that wouldn't be so surprising given our odd mash up of a 'family'," Mircea laughed light-heartedly.

"Whoever or whatever made them 'human' again might have done us a favour," Maarten mumbled, "But that doesn't explain why they all made such an ungodly noise,"

"Changing too fast?" Mircea suggested, "That's gotta hurt,"

"Looks like they'll be out for the count for a while," Maarten sighed, "But at least none of them have gotten loose,"

"A small victory," Gilbert mused.

"Let's get back upstairs," Maarten frowned at the unconscious vampires, "We better make sure everyone is still okay,"

"And if they wake up?" Gilbert motioned to the cells.  
"We'll check on them later," Maarten said and crossed his arms, "They're not a threat. The gatekeeper potentially still is,"

Mircea nodded.

Despite feeling a sense of unease, Maarten locked the door behind them and almost ran back up the stairs.

The sight of everyone gathered around in a circle sent his heart racing – but to his delight Anika was still standing.

Annelise and Basch on the other hand were a different story.

The little girl was sobbing over her brother's body.

"What the hell happened?" Gilbert looked at the others – only receiving blank stares and shrugs in return.

"The ones downstairs are all human in shape again," Maarten said, "Why isn't he?"

"The others turned back to their original forms?" Francis gaped.  
"Yes," Gilbert nodded, "So why didn't he?" he pointed at Basch.  
"How the hell did the others turn back?" Halldór looked confused, worriedly looking at Veronique who was trying to console Annelise the best she could.

"Let's give them some space," Francis frowned and pushed the others away one by one.

"This makes no sense," Erik grumbled, "Am I mixing the wrong things here or?"  
"Doubtful," Maarten replied, "Someone is messing with us all," he shuddered.  
The cold chill was back.

"So it likes playing games?" Cecilé crossed her arms and huffed, "How awful,"  
"Games and games," Maarten sighed, "It likes to play, but a game seemed a little too innocent of a word here,"

"Whatever it did to the others in the laboratory – it wasn't painless," Gilbert muttered.

"Uh," Halldór interrupted, "I think know why,"  
"Oh?" Francis turned to the teen, "How so?"

"Does that look painless?" He pointed to the floor and everyone's eyes were once more on Basch.

He was once more shaking and convulsing – Annelise was speechless, her face frozen in a silent scream of horror.

"What the fuck!?" Gilbert jumped out of the way of one of Basch's trashing limbs.  
"Erik! Do something!" Veronique near screamed at him.

"I would if I fucking knew what to do!" Erik growled back.

Basch stopped moving as suddenly as he had began – stiff as a statue on the floor once more he let out a bone chilling scream before his limbs appeared to fade away to dust.

Annelise was crying so hard she could hardly see though her tears.

However, Maarten could see – and he couldn't tear his eyes off the scene.  
He was trying to analyse what was going on; memorising the scene in front of him for the future. Surely the knowledge could serve him well.

Dark dust swirled around the remains of the monster.

However, there were no bones; instead of a contorted monster a blonde haired man lay motionless on the floor.

Black dust clung to his hair and clothes, but he was still very much more human than before.

"He's... he's back to normal," Cecilé whispered in awe.

"If you can call vampires normal," Maarten mumbled to himself, wasting little time to bend down and pinch some of the black dust before it could disappear completely.

There was a moment of stillness as everyone stared in wonder and surprise at Basch.  
Annelise sniffled before managing to embrace her brother tightly, tears of joy now rolling down her cheeks.

"But will he wake up?" Gilbert whispered to Maarten.  
"I hope so," Maarten whispered back.

"Who?" Ciprian's sleep filled voice sounded from the sofa as he sat up slowly and rubbed his still closed eyes.

"Not you," Mircea chuckled softly, taking a seat next to him and ruffling his hair.  
"Then who?" Ciprian looked confused, a small yawn escaping him as he tried to look awake and allert.  
"Annelise's brother," Maarten said, gesturing to the still unconscious vampire on the floor.

Francis, Anika and Erik were all busy trying to make him comfortable and bickering if it was best to move him to a bed or leave him be.

"He's not supposed to sleep?" Ciprian asked and blinked a few times.  
"No, not really," Mircea mumbled softly, "It is better if he wakes up,"

"Oh," Ciprian yawned, "I see,"

"Come on," Mircea smiled at his brother, "You should sleep, we'll make sure he gets better,"

Ciprian nodded sleepily and didn't object to being led out of the room.

Annelise proved more of a struggle – only allowing anyone to move her brother under the promise that she'd be allowed to stay near him all night.

Maarten was glad once everyone seemed to be calm and settled in their own rooms; although the chill down his spine refused to go away.

"Still feeling cold?" Anika asked him, offering a cup of tea and a warm smile as she sat next to him.

"Yeah... But it's usually only at night,"  
"When people sleep the daemons creep," Anika giggled.  
"More like drink and weep," Maarten rolled his eyes.

"At least things seem to be getting better, right?" she smiled softly at him, sighing sleepily.

"In a roundabout way... yes," Maarten sighed.

"Maybe the chill is just your bones trying to tell you that you're old and need to stop smoking?"

Maarten glared at Anika as if she had just grown two heads.

"One: I don't age," He frowned, "Two: smoking won't kill me," he rolled his eyes.  
"I think," he added after a moment of thought – he'd have to ask Mircea a few questions later.

"Wouldn't hurt to stop any way," Anika shrugged, not bothered by his menacing scowl.

"Maybe you should go to bed too," he grumbled.  
"Maybe, but so should you," she laughed softly and pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek.

"Yeah, yeah," he waved her off, closing his eyes and slowly sipping his now rather cold tea once she left him to his own thoughts.

No matter how far he seemed to go, something was around the corned to halt his progress and push him back down the steep hill.  
Maarten comforted himself with the knowledge that at least the people he liked were alive and well.  
Somewhat at least.

Maarten sunk down in his seat and sighed deeply.

"One quiet night. Just one," he whispered out loud.

He only realised he fell asleep when he awoke two hours later to a house more silent and darker than the grave.

The whole place seemed to be trapped in a bubble of silence.  
Maarten paused and tried to listen for any sounds, but there wasn't as much as a breath sounding from anyone anywhere.

Not even the grandfather clock against the wall made a sound.

"Not again," he grumbled and stood up.

"Why can't you just come out and fight like a proper fucking villain?" Maarten sneered into thin air, hoping whatever was lurking around him would stop playing these damned games with his senses.  
At this point he was beginning to believe he was going insane.

No sound came from anywhere, and Maarten took a step towards the door.  
His feet made no sound as they shuffled across the carpet, and the door didn't even creak when he opened it fully.

"Weird," Maarten grumbled to himself.

He didn't want to disturb anyone's much needed sleep, but he couldn't hear anything and that was beginning to frighten him.

"Erik?" he knocked at his door – but no sound came.

"Erik?" Maarten tried again, knocking harder.  
Once more – no sound came from the door.

"What the hell?" Maarten grumbled and banged his fist against the hard wood till his hand felt raw and numb.

Nothing.  
No sound.  
No noise.  
Nothing.

"Shit," Maarten swore under his breath.  
The bubble of silence wasn't just everyone sleeping soundly – it was silencing every sound he made.

Maarten swore loudly and kicked the door – but it didn't budge and it didn't make a sound.

Each door was the same.  
No one answered and no one heard him.

He paused at his sister's bedroom door, taking a deep breath before he dared knock.  
"Please be okay," he whispered.

He paused – no sound.

"Anika!" he yelled and slammed his fist against the door.

Silence.

"Wake up!" he tried again, kicking at the door.

"Shhhh," someone whispered and Maarten whirled around so fast he made himself dizzy.

"Who's there?" he hissed and tried to spot any movements.

"Shhh," the voice said once more, distorted and distant.

"Who are you?"

"People are sleeping," the voice said, and Maarten frowned – it was familiar, but too distorted and too weak to make him anything but more confused.

"Sleeping?" Maarten scanned the hallway, "You've made the whole house silent because people are sleeping?" he sneered angrily at the darkness.

"They need to rest," the voice said and Maarten swore he heard a low laugh from the end of the hallway.

"So you locked their doors and silenced all noise?"  
"Yes," the voice confirmed and Maarten finally spotted a faint silhouette.

Small and slim.

Maarten stepped closer – against better judgements.

The silhouette wasn't solid.  
The creature wasn't fully here – that much was clear.

However; its voice grew clearer and its shape more recognisable.

"Total silence. Everyone asleep. But not me. Why?"

"I wanted to play with someone," the voice said and it shrugged its shoulders.

Maarten swallowed nervously as he took one step closer and peered at the voice's body in front of him.

"Play?"

Ciprian smiled knowingly up at him, a terrifying glint in his eyes that Maarten recognised from the night Mircea had bit him.  
This couldn't be the real Ciprian he argued wordlessly to himself.  
This had to be the creature.

It had taken Ciprian's form.  
Maarten stared at the little boy, watching for any movements, but the thing in the shape of the boy stood still and smiled at Maarten instead as if nothing out of the ordinary had ever happened.

"You're the one who's causing trouble?" Maarten asked, eyes never leaving the creature's body. He didn't for a moment doubt that the thing could move faster than he could. No precautions were too grand in this case.

"Trouble?" Ciprian tilted his head and giggled softly, "I'm only helping!"  
"Helping?" Maarten frowned.

"Yes! You said you wanted them to look human again,"

Maarten gaped, and then quickly tried to hide his surprise.  
The vampires.  
He had made them 'human' because Maarten and the others had wanted them back to 'normal'?

"You can do that?" he stammered forward in shock.

"Yes," Ciprian nodded. "I can do many things,"

"But... how?" Maarten asked, hoping to understand what this creature's goals were, but it seemed the creature was now growing bored of Maarten and his questions.

Ciprian's body seemed to become translucent before he faded away into thin air.

The hallway went dark and the bubble of silence was burst.

Sounds hit him like a train.  
Clocks ticking and wind howling sounded far too loud and far too close.

No. no. no. no. no.  
Maarten shook his head.  
This wasn't real.

Why was the 'gate keeper' using Ciprian's form?

Or more importantly; it wanted to play with him?

Maarten felt sick and dizzy.

He stood outside Erik's room for several minutes before he dared try to knock.

Someone else needed to be told.  
Maarten just couldn't decide if he should tell him now or wait till morning.

His hand hovered millimetres from the door before he knocked.

To his great relief; this time his actions resulted in a noise.  
He took a deep breath and braced himself for the dirty look he was undoubtedly about to receive from Erik.


	21. Chapter 21

It was a very sleepy and very grumpy looking Erik that Maarten was met with when the bedroom door swung open.  
Said man was not at all happy, nor was Cecilé if Maarten were to judge by the look on her face.

"I don't know how your body works," Erik grumbled, "But contrary to popular belief in this household, I do need sleep,"

"Yeah, I know. I know," Maarten waved his hand. "but this is important,"

"So is sleep," Erik growled.

"Shut up and let me in,"

"Can't we take this to the living room?" Erik asked, eyes narrowing suspiciously at Maarten.

"No," Maarten frowned and pushed past the both of them without another word.

"Hey wait just a minute," Erik reached for Maarten's arm and caught his shirt, "Explain!"

"I will," Maarten hissed, "But close that fucking door first,"

Cecilé looked uncomfortable standing between them, until Erik slowly closed the bedroom door.

"Explain," Erik said coolly once the door was closed and locked once more.

"The gatekeeper can take the shape of others," Maarten whispered.  
"What?" Cecilé looked worriedly at Maarten and then at Erik, "How do you know?"  
"Because I just had the fucking thing confront me looking like Ciprian," Maarten grumbled, picking at his nails as he tried to remember if the 'person' he had seen had been an exact copy of the young boy or if there were any differences.

"Ciprian?" Cecilé looked puzzled, "What an odd person to choose to copy... don't you agree?" she glanced at Erik who nodded slowly in agreement.

"Maybe it was just the start?" Erik muttered to himself, deep in thought as he scratched the faint traces of stubble on his chin.  
"What do you mean?" Maarten frowned.  
"Maybe the gatekeeper started with Ciprian but will try to impersonate someone else later?"

Cecilé looked at Maarten worriedly and stepped a little closer to Erik.

"I'm still me," he snarled at her. Offended that she was even doubting that it was himself who was standing in front of her.

"Calm down," Erik said coldly, reaching out to give Cecilé's hand a reassuring squeeze.

"We need to warn the others," Maarten said sternly.  
"Of course," Erik nodded, "However, if this gatekeeper can turn the monsters back to normal vampires and silence a whole house... what's to say it's not already done something else?"

"So you want us to do nothing?" Cecilé raised an eyebrow at his words.

"No," Erik shook his head, "But let's go about this systematically,"  
"How?" Maarten crossed his arms and glared.

"We three now know what the gatekeeper can do. So why don't we slowly try to figure out if anyone else is being impersonated or manipulated?"  
"What good will that do?" Maarten wasn't sure about Erik's plans, but he didn't think he'd be able to do anything on his own about this problem.

"It will hopefully make the gatekeeper think it's winning whatever little game it's playing, simultaneously as we can slowly build a trap for it,"  
"Okay, I get where you're coming from, but what if it doesn't work? How will we know if someone's being impersonated?" Maarten was trying to think of how Erik's plan could work, but all he could think of was threatening people until they told the truth.

"We know the rest of these people well. At some point the gatekeeper has to let something slip. Eventually we can create a little code word or such and easily find out if anyone is not who they say they are,"

Maarten pondered the plan; it wasn't fool proof and he wasn't certain it could actually work – but he couldn't think of a better way right now himself.

"Fine," he sighed, "Let's lay low,"

"We need to appear as if we're not scared," Erik said in a low tone, "If this gatekeeper has sinister plans then we can't let it get the better of us so quickly,"

"I know. I know," Maarten frowned. He hated how on edge he was becoming over every little shadow and sound. Even furniture being moved made him uneasy.  
He felt like a blind man in a new house with no one to guide him or tell him where to tread to lead him where he wanted to be.

"Now, can we get back to sleep?" Erik asked somewhat annoyed.  
"Yeah, yeah. Sorry for waking you," Maarten grumbled and unlocked the door, "see you in the morning," he said with a whisper before he closed it behind him.

With a heavy sigh he began walking down the corridor, trying to establish if anything was different.

He returned to his own room with no plans to sleep – instead opening book after book to see if anything could shed a little light on the situation.

Nothing.

No book could give him any advice or clue on how to solve this problem.

There was nothing to be found anywhere to help him decide what to do next.

"What are you reading?" Halldór leaned over his shoulder and Maarten slammed the book shut so fast his scarf got trapped within the pages.

"Nothing," Maarten snapped in reply.

"Uuhu..." Halldór rolled his eyes, "Well, when you're done with nothing, come down for dinner. Francis has been showing off in the kitchen and the amount of food has now gotten so large we need everyone to help eat it,"

"Sure, sure," Maarten waved him off and pulled his scarf out from in-between the book's pages.  
With a frown he pushed it away from him and stood up, shuffling slowly across the floor and making his way downstairs.  
The sound of laughter and happy voices hit him as he reached the ground floor, mixed in with the pleasant and mouthwatering scent of freshly baked pastries and home cooked food.  
Maarten stopped just out of view and listened for a moment.

Cecilé was telling Veronique and Anika how Erik had proposed to her, which couldn't have been very successful the first time around given the amount of whining from Erik about how she really shouldn't tell them about his first attempt.

He could hear Annelise ask Francis questions, inquiring about the ingredients and cooking times for each dish he had whipped up, and between Gilbert's loud laughter and Bash's grumbling – Maarten could hear that Francis was clearly happy to share his knowledge.

"You joining us too?" Mircea said as he leant out of the door and grinned at him, making Maarten jump a little backwards in shock and clutch his heart.

"Yeah," he replied once his heart rate had slowed down somewhat.

"Ciprian is loving it, you should see his smile!" Mircea laughed softly and cast a glance back to the kitchen.

"Is he loving the food or the attention?" Maarten asked and rolled his eyes.  
"Both I think," Mircea smiled in return, ignoring or missing Maarten's foul mood – Maarten wasn't sure what happy cloud Mircea was living on right now, but he hoped he stayed there.  
He was a lot less annoying (and dangerous) when content.

"Come on, you're less fun than the dead," Mircea smiled and grasped Maarten's hand.  
"Are you implying yourself and 80% of that room are no fun?" Maarten cocked an eyebrow at him.  
"Actually I think were more more like 60% vampires versus 40% humans," Mircea said after a moment of thought.  
"Fuck off you know what I mean," Maarten hissed before Mircea dragged him into the kitchen.

"Oh look, the hermit emerges," Francis smirked and tossed Maarten a croissant.  
"And now I feel like leaving again," Maarten replied bitterly, although he did take a rather large bite of the croissant before saying anything else.

"Nonsense," His sister scolded, "You should help out. Even Ciprian has been helping decorate the cakes,"

Maarten's gaze wandered over to the small child who was holding a piping bag and trying very hard to concentrate on drawing little stick figures all over the cake.

"I'm making everyone!" Ciprian explained proudly, and even Maarten had to crack a smile at the sight of the icing stick-figure version of himself. Spiky hair, a scarf and a frown.

"He's captured your likeness to a T," Gilbert laughed.  
"That he did...," Maarten shrugged, "He even remembered to make me taller than the rest of you,"

Gilbert's smile faltered for a moment before it returned full force.

"Come on, sit down," Mircea commanded, and before Maarten could protest any further he was seated next to Ciprian and trying very hard to not get icing all over his clothes, a feat that became harder for each passing second as Ciprian was insistent on Maarten helping him draw flowers around the borders of the cake.

"I should draw you less grumpy now," Ciprian said after a while.  
"Oh?" Maarten replied, licking icing of his fingers and trying to catch Gilbert's attention to get him to pass him a beer.

"Yes," Ciprian nodded, "You look less angry now than before,"  
"I see..." Maarten hummed, watching the little boy carefully draw a final flower on the cake.

"And you make my brother happy,"

"What?" Maarten coughed, quickly glancing around to check if anyone else had heard that.  
No one was paying him or Ciprian any mind. Even Mircea was busy trying to sneak a taste of the batch of cookies Francis and Anika were making.

"Yes," Ciprian nodded.  
"I think you're a bit confused here Kid," Maarten sighed, "He's glad you're here,"  
"And you," Ciprian stuck his tongue out and blew Maarten a raspberry, "I just know,"  
"Do you now?" Maarten smirked with amusement.

"Of course," Ciprian huffed, "I'm his brother. I know everything,"

"Oh really?" Maarten chuckled and ruffled the kid's hair, "I somehow doubt it,"

"I know what you are..." Ciprian whispered so softly Maarten wasn't sure he had heard him right.  
"Pardon?"

"I know what you are... my brother did it to you,"

Maarten froze.  
"I have no idea what you're talking about," he replied coolly, all senses on high alert – was this Ciprian or the gatekeeper? He had completely forgotten that it could be either of them.

"You're not just like him. Not yet. Or..." Ciprian paused for a moment before continuing, "Not any more..."

"What nonsense are you talking about?"

"His magic," Ciprian sighed and Maarten was certain everything around him came to halt.

The gatekeeper was back. He was sure of it.  
"Magic? You think your bother can do magic?" Maarten rolled his eyes and tried to stay calm, tapping his fingers slowly against the table. Maybe Erik would notice too and help him. Maarten hoped so at least.

"I don't think. I know," Ciprian frowned and turned to glare up at Maarten.

"Uh..." Maarten wasn't sure why someone so young-looking was making him feel so at unease.  
"Look," he finally managed to say with some authority, "I don't know what lies your brother has been feeding you, but we're nothing alike,"

"No lies," Ciprian shook his head and cupped his hands, "I just know,"

Maarten stared at the boy with confusion, wondering if he should wave Erik over or even Cecilé.  
However; before he could do anything the whole room went dark.

He knew this feeling.  
The chill up his spine.  
The sense of unease.  
And this time he was right next to the source of it.

"What the hell?" He whispered to himself as he watched black smoke emerge from Ciprian's hands – swirling like shadowy snakes and engulfing everything and everyone in darkness.

"It's hard to control it..." Ciprian mumbled and Maarten felt sick.

There wasn't any gatekeeper.  
There wasn't some outside thing trying to harm them.

It had been Ciprian.

It had been the little kid all the time.

The realisation knocked the breath out of him and Maarten could feel himself shiver and shake.

"You... you got his magic," He managed to stammer forward.

"I don't want it. But I can't give it back," Ciprian frowned, "I keep trying, but all that happens is that people fall asleep or stop and stand as still as statues,"

"Everyone..." Maarten mumbled.

"Apart from you. You're difficult to make sleep. I tried a few times, just to see if I could,"

"You're the reason I've been feeling chills down my spine?"

"Maybe?" Ciprian frowned and looked thoughtful, "I'm not sure what happens when I can't make people sleep,"

"Can you unfreeze everyone now?" Maarten looked around the kitchen. "It's not nice seeing them like this,"

"Are you going to tell my bother I have his magic?" Ciprian looked worried.

"Uh..." Maarten hesitated. He wasn't sure what he was going to tell anyone. Or what even the next step from here would be.  
"Don't you want your brother to know you got his magic?" he asked carefully instead, hoping to change the topic somewhat.

"No," Ciprian shook his head, "Because I know he misses it. And I don't want him to know I have it. Not yet. Not until I can give it back,"

"But maybe he knows how to get it back? Or even Arthur and Veronique might be of help," Maarten argued.

"But if they don't..." Ciprian whispered and drew his knees up under his chin, "What if I can't give it back to my brother?"  
"Then he'll still be happy you're here," Maarten tried to reassured him, Mircea had been unpredictable and wild when angry or upset, he had no wish to find out what a small kid, with no idea of his powers, could do when emotionally imbalanced.

"Well... what if I ask them for help and we'll take it from there?"

"You will?" Ciprian's worry seemed to disappear in seconds, eyes alight with hope and glee.

"Yeah," Maarten nodded, "But in the meantime you have to stop playing these weird magical games, okay?"

"Okay," Ciprian nodded too eagerly that he almost hit his head against the table.

"So.. can you get these shadows to go away now?" Maarten gestured to the darkness around them.

"Oh yes. I think," Ciprian scrunched up his face in concentration and held his hands out.  
Maarten watched as the darkness faded little by little till nothing was left.

Everyone went back to what they had been doing before with no signs of having felt or even noticed the shadows freezing them on the spot.

Mircea's magic was certainly powerful, and Maarten hated that it was all in Ciprian's hands.  
Surely; such powers should not be contained within something so small and young. If he could even call Ciprian young. Technically the kid was older than all of them bar Mircea.

"Oh, are you two done with the cake?" Anika leaned over the table and smiled warmly.  
"Yes," Ciprian smiled and beamed with pride.  
All Maarten could do was nod.

No one else knew Ciprian had magic.  
No one knew he was the one they had thought about hunting.

He had to speak to Erik.  
And Arthur.  
Even Halldór and Veronique would be vital.  
But how?  
When?

How could he tell them Ciprian was the one who was the potential threat without Mircea getting wind of it?

"You okay?" Cecilé asked, "You're looking a little pale..."

"Yeah, I'm fine," Maarten mumbled, "I just need a cigarette," he grumbled and stood up.

He ignored her worried look, pausing for just one second to glance back at Ciprian.  
The kid was clinging to Mircea's leg and chattering happily away to Francis.

He needed fresh air and nicotine.  
He needed time to think.

But most of all;  
Maarten needed time to sort out the mess of thoughts and emotions brewing within him.

From within the shadows something he had never thought could be possible had emerged – and it had taken the most unlikely form. 


	22. Chapter 22

There were a few ways to go about telling the others about Ciprian.  
He could tell them one by one or all at the same time.  
The only thing he had to ensure was that Mircea never found out.

Although Maarten was quick to discover that that task was proving the most difficult.  
Ciprian had been right when he said Mircea liked him, Maarten just hadn't noticed until now how weirdly close Mircea would be at odd times.

Dinner? Mircea sat as close by as he could.  
Living room for afternoon tea? Mircea was there next to him.

Even if he tried to get some time alone in the library, Mircea was there.  
The only time he didn't practically hover over Maarten's shoulders was if Ciprian had his attention instead.

"Was he always this... clingy?" Maarten asked in a hushed tone.  
"Who?" Erik looked perplexed for a moment as he looked up from his notes.  
"Mircea..."  
"Oh. Yes. I think he was,"

Maarten groaned and sank further back into the chair. 

He'd been trying for three days to avoid Mircea for long enough to tell the others about Ciprian, but so far the only one he had succeeded in telling was Erik (which was most likely due to the fact that Mircea actually respected Erik's wish to work in peace and privacy).

"Have the other vampires made any progress?" he asked.  
"No. Still sleeping," Erik sighed, "I've tried waking them up, but they're all fast asleep,"

"Weird," Maarten scratched his head, "Tried given them the serum?"

"Yes," Erik nodded, "But nothing, didn't even react to the needle."

"Oh," Maarten frowned. That didn't bode well. "Basch woke up..." he mumbled.

"Yes, although I'm pretty sure Annelise's voice could raise him from the dead," Erik chuckled. "Besides, he may be awake but he's still not speaking very well..."

"What?" Maarten did a double take at Erik's words, "You mean he doesn't normally just grumble and mumble everything?"

"No..." Erik rolled his eyes, "That would be my cousin,"

"Oh," Maarten cast his gaze to the floor.

He licked his lips and tried to formulate a plan as Erik worked in silence.

He could maybe suggest that someone took Mircea and Ciprian out. Veronique was very good at getting people to come with her and he didn't doubt that together with his sister and Cecilé the three of them could twist any man around their fingers with ease.

Besides, he argued to himself, Anika liked Ciprian. That alone was enough for Mircea to like her in turn.

"Think we can convince someone to distract Mircea for a few hours while we tell the rest about our situation?" Maarten mused out loud.

"Probably," Erik mumbled, chewing on his pen and glaring at this own formulas.

"Will it give us enough time to tell the rest?" he asked.

"Most likely..." Erik nodded absent-mindedly and jotted down some more numbers.

"Hmm," Maarten went back to thinking up his plan.  
Certain aspects could work.  
Suggesting Ciprian go play in the park was bound to go down well as a suggestion with the kid. Mircea would surely demand to go too.  
Then it was just a case of ensuring they would stay outside for long enough to tell the rest of the household.

That, Maarten realised, would be the tricky part.

"Hey, Erik?"

"Mhm?"

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure," came the mumbled reply, though Erik still did not tear his eyes from his work.

"Do you think Mircea likes me?"

"Of course..." Erik trailed off before dropping his pencil, looking up and looking at Maarten with utter confusion. "Wait. What did you ask?"

"If you think Mircea likes me?"

"Like as in?" Erik still looked perplexed.

"I don't know!" Maarten sighed, "That's what I'm trying to figure out,"

"No, but it's clear he likes you. He didn't kill you even if he could," Erik sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "But if you're asking if he, uh, like-likes you, then I'm the wrong person to ask,"

Maarten couldn't even think of a reply.

"You think he might, uh, love me?" he hesitated using the word, but it was all he could think of.

"Hell if I know," Erik shrugged, "I tried proposing to Cecilé three times before she rolled her eyes and proposed to me. I am not the man to ask for romantic advice,"

"Three times?" Maarten had to stifle a laugh, "You're joking,"

"No," Erik frowned, "I forgot the ring in my office the first time, second time I realised a whole restaurant of people could hear me so I asked her to be my business partner instead," Erik sighed and Maarten could see a hint of red flaring up his cheeks.

"And the third time?" Maarten was positive this information was worth its weight in gold.

"Third time I brought her to a secluded place in the park, and I had my lines all thought out. But of course I completely forgot what to say the second I went down on one knee," Erik frowned, as if he was disapproving of his own lack of tack and skill when it came to human interaction.

Maarten was stuck some place between understanding, pity and finding the whole thing hilarious. No wonder Erik had gone down the route of pharmacy and not of a physician.

In contrast Maarten could at least hold a conversion with strangers. Erik was almost painfully shy even around people he called friends, though he hid it rather well.

"So what did Cecilé do?" Maarten made a mental note to ask Cecilé her side of this story later, this was the funniest thing he had heard in years.

"She stifled a laugh, took the ring from the box and placed it on her own finger before pulling out a box of her own and asking me to marry her," Erik sighed, but the expression on his face that followed was anything but upset.  
Maarten cast a glance at the gold ring on Erik's right hand.

He hadn't studied either of their wedding bands in detail before, but now that he took the time to do so, it was clear that Erik's ring had more detail than the average man's wedding ring.  
Cecilé had clearly taken great care in choosing it, but with the presence of diamonds within it there was no doubt in Maarten's mind Cecilé had not consulted Erik about the choice.  
Fitting really.

Erik smiled and twirled the ring around his finger, gently pulling it off and presenting it to Maarten for inspection.

"She had it engraved..." he mumbled.

Maarten squinted to read the small engraving, grinning as he made out the words.

"Forever here to keep you right," he read out loud and laughed.

"Well it is true..." Erik grumbled and held his hand out for the ring, placing it back on his finger as quickly as he could.

"Of course," Maarten chuckled.

"But yes, if you want any advice on how to propose to Mircea I am not your man. Try Francis maybe,"

"I'm not proposing to any more," Maarten sneered and frowned at the thought.

"Then why did you ask?"

"Because Ciprian said he liked me and I need to know if that was a joke or a hint to something, uh, more..."

"Oh, I see," Erik looked thoughtful for a moment before shrugging, "I don't know. I don't really pay attention to what kind of affection he shows you," 

"You are utterly useless," Maarten grumbled.

"Ah yes, of course," Erik rolled his eyes, "Let me just stop doing this whole 'serum' thing and leave you to thirst for blood again shall I?"

"Okay. Sorry," Maarten sniggered, "You're utterly useless at advice on human behaviour,"

"If I can't see it under a microscope then I don't care," Erik smiled, although Maarten knew that wasn't the full truth.

"Maybe I should ask Cecilé instead," Maarten mumbled thoughtfully.

"Probably better. She's better with humans than me,"

"Wow, I wish I could go back in time and be present at your wedding," Maarten whistled.

"It was very touching," Erik chuckled.

"Oh?"

"Her bridesmaid said she could do better while her maid of honour held a long speech about how there was no way I'd survive without her. Then my brother told us both we were idiots, her for marrying me and me for trying to propose in the first place. My cousins got into a drinking competition with her cousins that ended up in some very loud and awful dancing and I'm pretty sure someone stole a chandelier from the church,"

"You _are_ joking,"

"No. Chandelier is in the library. Though I still don't know who took it,"

"How the hell does one steal a chandelier?"

"No idea. I always thought it was the joint effort of my cousins, but now that I know Halldór has magic, I'm thinking it might have been him,"

"Wow," Maarten chuckled, "I definitively need to go back in time to witness this,"

"Cecilé says there are some photos, but they're all locked up in a safe some place in the house and I don't have the code,"

Maarten snorted. Now he had to see the photos. Maybe he'd recruit Ciprian to his cause.

"Fine fine," he rolled his eyes, "You're useless with people,"

"Damn right," Erik said with a hint of pride, "Give me things that don't talk back instead,"

"Noted," Maarten hummed.

"Although, if it's worth anything, Mircea definitively doesn't hate you. And I don't think any of us would be alive today if it wasn't for you..."

"Thanks. I think..." Maarten coughed. If he hadn't started hunting vampires in the first place then maybe he wouldn't be the reason they'd all been put in so much danger in the first place.  
Then again; Mircea would have carried out his plans regardless of his involvement.  
Maybe it had been for the better that he'd been so cocky and greedy when he first started.

He rolled his shoulders and stretched, sighing as he managed to produce a loud crack from his neck.

"Better get started," he grumbled as he stood up, "Tell me if the vampires down here wake up will you?"

"Certainly," Erik nodded, "I'll keep you informed,"

"Good," Maarten smiled briefly.  
Now he just had to convince Mircea to leave the house.

He found Mircea and Ciprian in the library. Mircea reading out loud from what Maarten understood to be a book of fairy tales.

"The sun isn't out, you should take him to the park," Maarten suggested as he leant against the door frame.

"Park?" Ciprian's eyes lit up.  
"Park?" Mircea didn't look as enthusiastic as his brother at the idea.

"Yes, there's a really nice one not too far from here. Fresh air does one good and all that,"

"Oh so now you decide to play Doctor," Mircea smirked.

"Hey, I've got papers to prove I graduated and all. I'm far from 'playing'," Maarten let a chuckle slip, watching as Ciprian bounced up and down on the floor, eager to get outside.

"Fine," Mircea grumbled, "But you should come with us too then,"

"Can't," Maarten shook his head, "Erik needs help in the laboratory and no one else knows what I do about the serum," he lied.

"Hrm," Mircea grumbled, but Ciprian was tugging hard at his sleeve.

"Ask the others maybe?" Maarten suggested, "Cecilé and Anika might be willing to join you,"

"Trusting me alone around your sister now?" Mircea smirked.

"Of course," Maarten smirked back, "You won't hurt her,"

"No. Of course not," Mircea's smile went back to being friendly, "The thought hadn't even crossed my mind,"

Maarten knew it was a lie, and somehow he was also certain Ciprian knew it to be a lie too, but the young boy still jumped with excitement and smiled happily up at his brother.

"Well the girls will be prettier company anyway," Mircea shrugged.

"Of course," Maarten snorted.

He watched as Ciprian skipped out of the room with Mircea at his heel, although he didn't miss the shiver of cold that ran down his spine as Ciprian turned and waved goodbye.

There was no way that Ciprian was controlling his magic effectively.  
And while he hated the idea of Mircea having all his powers back – he hated the thought of someone so small containing so much power for much longer.

Arthur was the first on his list to tell.  
Surely a necromancer could help.  
And if he couldn't – Veronique and Halldór should be able to fill in the gaps.

Finding Arthur on the other hand proved somewhat tricky.  
He wasn't in his room. Nor was he in the kitchen, study or any of the usual spots.

Maarten was almost getting angry until he heard two familiar voices arguing in the garden.

Mystery solved, he thought to himself, as he spotted Francis and Arthur having somewhat of a shouting match over what appeared to be the herb garden.

'Great,' Maarten mused to himself as he stepped outside.

"When you two gentlemen are done arguing if it's herbs de provenance or basil that goes in stew, can you perhaps join me in the laboratory?" 

"What?" Arthur hissed, still glaring even when he realised who had just arrived.

"Join me in the laboratory," Maarten repeated with a frown, "Don't question me, just do it,"

"Oh, intriguing," Francis laughed and smiled slyly.

"Yes yes, just get moving," Maarten grumbled, hoping the two wouldn't start arguing again until he could at least explain the situation.

Sadly; no such luck.

The pair hadn't stepped inside the mansion before they started arguing again.  
This time Maarten zoned out and continued walking. He didn't care for what they argued about unless it actually concerned him. How to cook food was not one of those things.

If they didn't come to an agreement soon, at least Erik would threaten them to silence. 


	23. Chapter 23

Maarten wanted to leave most of the explaining to Erik, but by the time Erik had made Arthur and Francis stop bickering over useless things he figured he'd let Erik get back to his work.

"So there's nothing lurking out there to get us?" Arthur sounded relieved.

"No," Maarten shook his head, "It doesn't seem like it. Just Ciprian,"

"He's hardly a threat," Francis laughed.

"He's still dangerous," Maarten whispered, "Considering he has a lot more power than he knows how to control,"

"He means well at least," Francis sighed, "So there's not much to panic over is there?"

"That's not very helpful when he can probably easily kill everyone," Arthur huffed and crossed his arms.

"Ciprian doesn't want the power," Maarten added quietly, "So Arthur, I need you to find a way to transfer it back to Mircea,"

"Wait. Wait. Waaait," Francis held his hands out, "We established Mircea is less dangerous without powers, and now we want him to have them all back?" Francis looked confused and annoyed.

"Ciprian doesn't know how to contain them properly, can you imagine what might happen if he's hurt or angered?" Maarten argued.

Francis scrunched up his face and mulled Maarten's words over before sighing.  
"Okay, you're right. That's probably worse," he grumbled in defeat.

"Now, I'm not sure how to do that exactly..." Arthur admitted with a frown, "But Veronique should be helpful for this, Halldór too I suppose," he added with a slight smile.

"Veronique will certainly be of great assistance. I'll leave you to explain the situation to both her and Halldór when you get a moment to yourselves," Maarten said in a hushed tone.

"Leave it to me," Arthur smirked, "I'll find a solution,"

"Sure," Francis snorted.

"If you two start fighting in my laboratory again I will personally skin you both alive and shove the remainder of your bodies into tubs of salt," Erik hissed threateningly as he glared over at them, hand gripping his pen so hard his knuckles were white.

"Sorry," Francis and Arthur said in unison, edging their chairs a little further away from Erik.

"I'll go find Veronique," Arthur said hurriedly and stood up as carefully and quietly as he could.

Francis watched Arthur leave before turning to Maarten.  
"He used to be an enemy too..." he whispered with concern to him as soon as he was certain Arthur was out of earshot.

"And for a while so were you," Maarten reminded him, "And I yours," he added.

"Well," Francis coughed and stared at the ceiling, "I suppose you've got a point," he sighed in defeat after a minute of contemplation.

"If you can tell Gilbert and Annelise, I'll tell Anika myself about what's going on," Maarten wasn't sure how quickly to tell everyone, but they all needed to know eventually. Even Mircea.

"Fair enough," Francis shrugged, "And when do we tell Mircea?"

"When we know where to go from here," Maarten said and crossed his arms.

"But he knew magic himself, surely we should ask for his help too," Francis argued with a slight glare.

"Ciprian didn't wish for him to know yet, and I think I agree. Mircea probably won't be happy to learn that his little brother has all that power,"

"I don't agree, but fine," Francis huffed, "But the day you tell him I will be on the other side of the city," he frowned and flicked his hair out of his face.

"I'm trying to keep everyone safe," Maarten grumbled as Francis left the room.

"Yeah, yeah, but he still has a point," Erik mumbled, tapping his pen against the desk and glaring at his own handwriting.

"You're supposed to be on my side," Maarten hissed.

"No. I'm on whatever side ensures my own survival right now," Erik hummed, "And since the human population within my own home is dwindling rapidly I think I have every right to be wary,"

"Everything is fine," Maarten said, well aware Erik knew that it was a blatant lie.

"Sure, but until Ciprian is magic free and Mircea is proven to be powerful but reliable and safe, I will continue to be suspicious,"

"Okay," Maarten sighed, "Point taken,"

"Good," Erik mumbled, "Now go poke the other vampires with a stick and see if any of them wake up,"

"Seriously?" Maarten raised and eyebrow.

"Yes," Erik replied without a hint of irony, pointing to a long pole propped up against a wall.

Maarten stifled a laugh, but did as told, gently nudging the still sleeping vampires within the cells.  
Neither of them moved or even made an sign of wakening.

"Still sleeping," Maarten said as he took a seat once more.

"Well Fuck," Erik whispered under his breath, "Maybe I should ask Ciprian to wake them up before giving them any larger doses of adrenaline..."

"I'll try to suggest it," Maarten said softly, worried Mircea and Ciprian could have returned by now and eavesdrop on their conversation.

"Good." Erik said and returned to his papers.

Maarten remained in his chair, watching as Erik wrote down calculation after calculation.

Erik was nothing if not thorough.  
Each minute change was documented and noted for future reference.

Maarten's own notes had been accurate, but Erik's research was far beyond his.

"Need any help?" he offered after a while.

"Well, only if you fancy injecting yourself with a slightly modified serum and tell me the effects,"

"Ehh, sure," Maarten shrugged and rolled up his sleeve.

"Hang on," Erik stood up and walked over to another table, hand hovering over several vials before choosing one labelled with the number 1627.

"Here," he said as he handed Maarten the glass vial.

"You want me to inject myself?"

"Would you rather I did it?" Erik cocked an eyebrow at him.

"Uh, no. Give me the syringe," Maarten frowned.

Erik drew the drug up, but handed him the needle with one word.  
"Here," he said softly, watching as Maarten pressed the needle to his arm, hissing as it punctured his skin and slid inside.

"Fuck," Maarten hissed as he felt the cold liquid enter his system.  
He withdrew the needle and handed it shakily back to Erik.

"You okay?" Erik asked carefully.

"Yeah," Maarten's gaze wandered to the floor.  
"Head swimming," he mumbled.

"Really?" Erik sounded genuinely surprised.

"What the hell did that one contain?" Maarten asked, hanging his head low and trying to support himself with his hands. The whole room was spinning and he could no longer focus on anything.

"Not feeling too good?" Erik asked.

"Fuck no," Maarten hissed. "Erik, what the hell was that?"

"Well..." Erik rose from his seat and took a step backwards.

"Erik," Maarten snarled, fangs barred and eyes glowing faintly as he tried to focus on the other man. "What the hell did you give me!?"

"Just the normal dose of serum..."

"Lies," Maarten hissed and tried to stand up, the edges of his vision darkening as the room seemed to spin in two directions at once. Erik had added something else to the serum without telling him and Maarten wasn't going to let him get away with it.

"It might contain some other drugs..." Erik said and took another step backwards.

"What other drugs?" Maarten was struggling to stand on his feet, but he was angry enough to keep his focus on Erik for just long enough to still uphold his balance.

"LSD..." Erik said quietly, "And morphine," he added and took another step away from Maarten.

"What?!" Maarten felt anger rise within him, head pounding and vision failing, but he still lounged at Erik with his remaining strength.

Either he got lucky, or Erik's reflexes weren't that great – because they both hit the floor hard.  
Maarten was fuming, hands around Erik's neck and teeth barred.

"You gave me what!?" he yelled and tightened his grip around Erik's neck. The room was still spinning and making him nauseous, but at least he had something to hold on to – even if Erik was beginning to struggle for breath.

"Answer me!" Maarten snarled, lifting Erik a little off the ground before slamming him hard against the floor again.

Erik didn't reply, instead he winched and clawed at Maarten's hands, kicking at his back to the best of his abilities.

Maarten saw red.

He was furious, and he knew he could snap the other man's head off.

He could. And he would.

Maarten growled and glared angrily at Erik.  
However, the room was slowing down, and Erik's attempts at freeing himself were getting weaker and weaker.

"Erik," Maarten grumbled before it hit him what he was actually doing.  
He scrambled off him, panicked breathing as he watched Erik lie still on the cold floor.

"Erik?" he tried, rubbing his temples and trying to gain control once more of his own mind and body.

Erik didn't move.

Maarten shook his head, and then immediately regretted the motion.

He took several deep breaths and tried to stand, but with his knees shaking and with no strength to support himself upright he remained on the floor.  
His vision was still unclear, but he was pretty sure he wasn't going to blackout.

"Erik...?" he tried again, shuffling closer to Erik's lifeless body.

"Erik?" Maarten's voice was desperate and worried as he placed his hand on Erik's shoulder and shook him.

"Erik... fucking hell, wake up!" he tried again.

Maarten shook uncontrollably, vision slowly becoming less blurry and dark.  
He rubbed his eyes and held his breath. This was a bad dream. A bad trip.

"No, no, no, no..." he whispered to himself and pulled at his own hair.  
This wasn't happening.

Maarten was frozen in place, dizzy and nauseous, and it wasn't just the drug's fault this time.

A cough made him look up, straining to locate where the sound had come from.

"Fuck," Erik groaned and Maarten felt a wave of relief wash over him. He'd never been so happy to hear Erik swear before.

"Oh thank God," Maarten sighed in relief.

"Note to self," Erik said in a raspy voice, "Don't do that again,"

"I'm sorry," Maarten said softly, genuinely worried for Erik's well-being as he watched the man rub at his bruised neck.

"Don't be," Erik laughed dryly, "I did just drug you without your permission,"

"You're a dick,"

"Yeah," Erik said and took a few deep breaths, "That was close,"

"I could have killed you!" Maarten hissed, "And unlike the others, I can't bring you back,"

"Oh..." Erik went quiet, "Lucky me then," he mumbled and rubbed his neck slowly, hissing as the bruises got darker.

"What the hell were you thinking?" Maarten was angry, but for a different reason. He was no longer seeing red.

"I wanted to see what happened to vampires, or in your case, half vampires when given drugs..." Erik explained slowly.

"And you didn't think to warm me?"

"No," Erik looked a little sheepish.

"Why not?" Maarten really wanted to punch Erik, but the faint trace of blood at the back of Erik's head made him change his mind. He'd done enough damage.

"Because you can heal from almost anything faster if you're aware of it," Erik explained slowly, still dizzy himself from lack of air.  
"I needed to find out how quickly you reacted and recovered from certain drugs if you didn't know they where there,"

"Why?"

"Because I've been trying to wake the vampires up with no result and at some point stronger means are probably going to be necessary," he explained calmly.

"So you drugged me?" Maarten's voice rose slightly, "What kind of fucked up logic is that?"

"What do we do if Mircea gets his powers back and again does something to put us in danger?" Erik whispered.

"I'll beat him," Maarten grumbled.

"No, imagine he gets his magic back. What if we need to subdue him. We should know what we need to keep in him a coma like the vampires we still have down here," Erik gestured at the cells.

"And you concluded drugging me was the best way for this experiment?" Maarten hissed, "You're a fucking idiot,"

"I agree I could perhaps have done better, however," Erik glanced at his wrist watch, "You just fought off fifty milligrams of morphine and thirty milligrams of LSD in less than five minutes,"

Maarten opened his mouth to argue, but promptly shut it again.

"That's rather impressive when we know your healing abilities are not as fast as a full vampire's abilities..."

"Most humans would struggle breathing with that alone at least," Maarten mumbled.

"Yes, you lost your balance and vision, but beyond that did remarkably well," Erik shakily stood up from the floor, gripping onto a table to stabilise himself, "Almost too well really," he said as he touched his neck.

"Sorry about the bruises," Maarten grumbled as he stood up slowly himself, the effect of the drugs now almost completable gone apart from a faint tingling in his toes and fingers.

"Suppose I deserve them, Cecilé isn't going to be very amused though," Erik laughed dryly, wincing a little at the thought.

"Bet you money she'll call you an idiot,"

Erik snorted and flashed Maarten a brief grin.  
"Yeah, likely. And then give you quite the verbal beating for hurting me," he chuckled at the thought.

"True," Maarten laughed.

"Forgive me friend?" Erik held his hand out towards Maarten.

"You're forgiven," Maarten said and shook Erik's hand firmly.  
"But pull another stunt like that and I will kill you,"

"No problem. Just do it in front of some of the vampires and I'll be fine," Erik smirked.

"Trust me, I don't think you'd want to be a vampire," Maarten sighed.

"Why not? Everyone I love has become one," Erik crossed his arms.

"Well, yes, but,"

"I'm not saying I'd want to die, but considering my brother and my wife will outlive me... yeah," Erik shrugged, "The thought has passed my mind several times,"

Maarten couldn't even think of a way to argue with that.

"Fine. But don't make any decisions on a whim," he warned.

"I won't," Erik shook his head, "I'm aware it's a sacrifice. But it may just be one I'll be willing to take."

"I understand." Maarten sighed and ran a hand through his hair.  
He had similar issues himself.  
At some point he would have to face the reality that his sister was still mortal.  
While he hated the idea of letting her go, he also detested the idea of turning her.

One step at a time, he told himself.  
One step at a time. 


	24. Chapter 24

Cecilé's scream could be heard through the entire house when she spotted Erik's bruises, and it didn't take her long to find Maarten after it.

"What the hell did you do!?" she hissed angrily up at him and Maarten backed away from her slowly. Short and petite as she may be, he had no wish to make her any more furious.

"It was a misunderstanding," he tried to explain, feeling even more uncomfortable as his back hit a wall.

"Misunderstanding? Erik has bruises all over his neck and I know they're not my doing," she hissed.

Maarten blinked a few times before deciding to just ignore the last part.  
"Look, we were both in the wrong, I apologised, he apologised. It's over." Maarten swallowed nervously, pretty certain it was Cecilé who was making the room noticeably chillier.

"You hurt him," Cécile said coolly, tapping her foot against the floor.

"I did. And I'm sorry, but in my defence he did drug me."

"After all he's done for you and you still don't trust him?" Cecilé's voice was calmer now, but her ice cold glare remained, "Your paranoia is getting out of hand,"

"I'm not paranoid! I'm cautious," Maarten growled back.

"No, it's paranoia and it needs to stop," Cecilé spat, "No one else is so distrusting, it's only you,"  
her words stung and dug deep.

"You can't blame me for not trusting people!"

"I can. I will and I'm currently doing so," Cecilé huffed, "Plenty of us under this roof have just as much reason to distrust one another as you do, but you're the only one now still left willing to kill someone."

"I've not killed anyone." Maarten sneered.

"Yet," Cecilé whispered darkly, "But out of everyone, I'd wager money on you doing so,"

Maarten sneered at her, but found no words to dispute her claims.

"Besides," Cecilé said before turning on her heel, "No one else is after any revenge. You're the one who can't trust the rest. You're the one accusing people, jumping at your own shadow. And for what? Your enemy is powerless!" Cecilé was furious.

"You haven't seen the true evil of vampires," Maarten began.  
"Seen? I am one!" Cecilé spat, "And you're as good as one too, stop trying to be so high and mighty, you're no better than anyone here,"

"You don't understand," Maarten tried to argue.

"No. No I don't. But seeing as I've forgiven Mircea for what he did to me, I think it's high time you forgive him for what he did to you,"

Maarten didn't get an opportunity to say anything more before Cecilé disappeared out of the room, slamming the door hard behind her.

He wanted to scream, run after her and tell her how utterly wrong she was.  
However; Maarten still couldn't think of a reply.

He paced back and forth in the room, trying to formulate an argument.  
To justify his anger and fears, not just to Cecilé, but to himself as well.

"Everything okay?" Ciprian asked, and Maarten jumped.

"What? Oh yes," he hurriedly replied.

"You sure? Cecilé looked angry when she walked past me..."

"I'm fine. Everything is fine," Maarten grumbled, hoping to avoid Mircea catching wind of anything any time soon.

"Oh. Okay," Ciprian whispered, "Mircea doesn't know yet, does he?" he added quietly.

"No, Not yet," Maarten confirmed, "Not unless you told him,"

"No," Ciprian shook his head and Maarten felt sorry for the kid. He looked far too young for all of this, much like Annelise, but unlike her; Ciprian felt the need to hide things from his brother.

Ironic, Maarten thought, as it had been Mircea who wanted to keep the truth from Ciprian at the start.

"Where is your brother?" Maarten asked, half expecting Mircea to jump down from the ceiling at any moment.

"Inspecting Erik's bruises," Ciprian said bluntly.

"Oh..." Maarten swallowed nervously. Another person to explain it all too. He really wasn't looking forward to doing it again and again, and he was begging to wonder if he could convince Erik to wear turtle-neck sweaters for the next week or two.

"I'll join you all shortly then," he finally said, glad when Ciprian nodded with a smile and left him alone.

He was paranoid. He knew it, but he'd rather not openly admit to it.  
Maarten had long since accepted he'd be a lot worse off if he wasn't as good as surviving as he now was due to the vampire blood still flowing through his veins.  
The lack of sleep alone would likely have killed him weeks ago.

Maarten paced around the room a few more times, trying to formulate words that would accurately describe what he was feeling.  
He was scared. That much was true.  
Yet he knew deep down that no one would harm him, and the few outside the house that probably would simply couldn't.  
He was in human eyes invincible, and even vampires would struggle.

Maarten had made his greatest enemy weaker than the average vampire.  
Mircea was nothing anymore.

So why was he still so afraid?  
Maarten asked himself the question over and over again.

In the end no answer came to him.

Shaking his head he decided he might a well go apologise to Erik once more.

He got down the stairs and halfway down the hallway before Mircea pulled him aside.

"We need to talk," Mircea hissed and dragged him towards the garden.

"Why?" Maarten whispered, a little worriedly. Had Mircea figured it all out?  
He shuddered a little at the thought. 

"Shut up," Mircea said quietly but firmly, dragging him outside and as far away from the mansion as they could get.

"Okay, see now you're just making my paranoia worse..." Maarten grumbled.

"What the hell happened to Erik?" Mircea turned to Maarten with arms crossed and a narrow glare aimed at the taller man.

"Oh for fucks sake not you too," Maarten sighed, "It's fine. We both fucked up. We're okay, no need to fret."

"You almost killed him," Mircea said coolly.

"Yes and Cecilé has already given me quite the verbal beating about it. Can we now move on?"

"No," Mircea said sternly.

"What do you want then?" Maarten was beginning to tire of the endless barrage of questions.

"Why are you so scared?"

The question hung in the air as Maarten struggled to find his words.

"I'm not," he finally managed to utter between clenched teeth.

"You are," Mircea huffed, "And I want to know why,"

"Seeing as you're the one who got me into this mess in the first place I think it should be pretty damn obvious," Maarten bit back, anger from his previous exchange with Cecilé bubbling up once more.

"And I've apologised. I'll do it again if that's what you want," Mircea sighed.

"It's not."

"Then what do you want?"

Maarten honestly didn't know.

"I want to ensure my sister will be safe," he mumbled after contemplating the question.

"She is. She has a necromancer and at least 5 vampires to protect her! She's not going to be harmed,"

"Really? Because what if someone from inside decides to change?" Maarten argued.

"Who would that be? Me? You?" Mircea spat bitterly back at him, "Because I'm as good as powerless and you're more likely to hurt everyone else besides her,"

Maarten's hands curled into fists and he took several deep breaths.  
Mircea was right. That was the worst part.

"You're not exactly sane, so why should I listen to you anyway?"

"Because I know what it feels like to lose your only family..." Mircea whispered softly, "And I'm pretty sure that's what's really bothering you..."

Maarten sank down on the grass, head in his hands as he tried to hold himself together.  
Out of all the possible futures he had envision for himself as a kid, this was the furthest from them all.

"I was supposed to retire as a doctor, move to the countryside and live in peace," he said softly, almost thankful for Mircea's presence beside him as the vampire took a seat next to him.

"Sorry about that," Mircea whispered.

"Should have stuck to being a doctor," Maarten grumbled, "Let the witches and vampires be,"

"Well that is true," Mircea let out a soft chuckle, "But then who knows what would have happened to everyone else in that house right now."

"Don't." Maarten grumbled. "I don't want to think about that."  
He rubbed his eyes slowly, he could do with a drink or a cigarette. Or five.  
"And since when did you make sense?" he cast a glance at Mircea.

"My mind is a bit more quiet now," Mircea smiled, "Less clutter and less noise."

"So you're, uh, happier and all that because your powers are gone?"

"Suppose so. In a way maybe. I'm not really sure," Mircea shrugged, "I just feel more like myself. Before it all started... well, not quite but I don't know," he sighed, closing his eyes and seeming to search for the right words himself.  
"I think I'm just happy now," he said and grinned.

"Happy?"

"Yeah," Mircea nodded, "Everything is just fine if you ask me..."  
"I see..." Maarten muttered, "But what if you could get your powers back? What would you do?" Maarten asked.

"I'm not sure... continue to keep Ciprian safe really," Mircea shrugged.

"But us..."

"What us?"

"You know," Maarten gestured back towards the house, lights still on in the kitchen and some of the bedrooms upstairs, "Everyone in there..."

"Oh." Mircea went quiet, pondering the question for a while.

"Well...I like them," he said after a while, "So I'd protect them too."

"That's good..." Maarten let out a sigh of relief.  
"But would you want them back?"

"Not right now," Mircea said and flopped down on the grass, staring up at the sky. "It's kind of nice to not have all of that stuff swirling within you trying to break out."

"Break out?"

"Yeah. It's like a storm. It took me centuries to learn to control it, but even then it's hard to keep it in line. It just creeps out of cracks so to speak," Mircea looked at his hands, waving them a little around in the air.

"Cracks?" Maarten was getting more and more worried, this was definitively not helping his paranoia he decided as he glanced back at the mansion.

"Yeah. It seeps out easily if you're not careful, it's a lot to hold inside you."

"Then we really need you to take it back," Maarten whispered.

"But I don't want it back yet, wherever the power is it can stay. I'm fine," Mircea smiled, "It's a lot easier speaking to you when you know I can't hurt you."

"That's rather irrelevant right now." Maarten grumbled. He had to tell Mircea, they couldn't really wait when he knew Ciprian was potentially leaking magic. If that was even the correct term.

"Someone else can carry the burden for a while. I'm glad I get a break. Helps sort out what's my thoughts and personality again. You know... find who I am again," Mircea sighed and stared at the dark sky above them.  
"Takes a little time to sort it all out when you've been living for centuries just to get revenge on someone long dead," Mircea's smile was betrayed by the sad look in his eyes and Maarten realised he hated himself for knowing that he'd be the one to make Mircea even more unhappy.

"But your magic, you must miss it, if not at least a little?"

"Sometimes. It's handy," Mircea laughed, "But I've got a roof over my head, people I can actually call friends around me and with this serum I don't even crave blood. I can almost pass for a normal human if I go outside on a cloudy day,"

"And if someone you knew got stuck with the powers?" Maarten wasn't sure how to word this any differently or make the blow any softer.

"That can't happen. My magic is my magic it doesn't just choose someone at random," Mircea laughed and Maarten was certain there was lead filling his stomach as he spoke.

"But if it did...?"

"Stop with your worrying. Things are nice and peaceful for a change, can't it just stay like that?"

"Uh..." Maarten massaged his temples, there really wasn't any easy way to say this. Nor would it do any good keeping it from Mircea for any longer.

"It's gotta get worse before it gets better," Maarten mumbled.

"Nonsense," Mircea laughed and sat upright again, carefully placing his hand over Maarten's.  
His skin was cool to the touch, but Maarten didn't mind, he was burning up from the inside himself.  
"I think things are working out just fine right now! Ciprian's safe, and beyond your little hiccup with Erik earlier no ones really at each others throats any more."

"That might change..." Maarten whispered.

"Why? Who's going to harm us?"

"You..." Maarten said softly.

"Me?" Mircea looked offended. "What do I have to do to prove I'm not going to harm anyone? Tattoo myself with another mark?" he asked and rubbed at the death passport on his wrist, fingers moving from corner to corner of the hexagon.

"Your word might not be enough..." Maarten sighed.

"Fine," Mircea hissed, "A mark or ten more, who cares. I'll let Erik tattoo some fucking crosses on me or whatever, how's that?"

"Ciprian has all your magic," Maarten blurted out.

Mircea gaped, his expression caught between shock and disbelieve.

"Wh-what?" he stammered.

"Ciprian... we thought some gatekeeper got your magic. But it was Ciprian," Maarten swallowed nervously.

"But he's been by my side. He looks so happy. He... he's my little brother..." Mircea drew his knees to his chest and stared at the ground, his current illusion of a happy life crumbling around him like dry sand.

"He didn't want you to know, not until we found some way to return the magic to you, but if you don't want it..."

"I'll take it back," Mircea interrupted softly, "He can't carry that burden. He's too small for it..."

Maarten's hand hovered over Mircea's back before he took a deep breath and pulled the shorter man into a warm embrace.

"I'm sorry," Maarten whispered. "I'm really, really sorry." 


	25. Chapter 25

The news had hit Mircea hard, and Maarten wasn't sure if he should drag him back inside or let him sit outside and gather his thoughts some more.  
It looked like a storm was raging across his face, Mircea's brows were furrowed and his gaze was hard.  
Despite this, Maarten had to reach over and wipe a few tears away from his face several times.

"It's not fair," Mircea finally said, "It's not fair at all..."

Maarten didn't dare say anything, he just nodded slowly, even if he knew Mircea wasn't looking at him.

"My fault... again," Mircea whispered and leant his head against Maarten's shoulder.

"We'll fix it," Maarten muttered softly in return, letting Mircea rest his head.

"It was nice while it lasted," Mircea mumbled quietly.

"Suppose so," Maarten sighed.

Sooner or later they would have to go inside and tell the others.  
No need for secrets any more – the bat was out of the bag.

"Hey..." Mircea whispered, "I'm not really sorry I turned you... I'd much rather have you live forever then watch you fade away to dust like everyone else,"

"Uh..." Maarten tried to clear his throat, unsure what to reply with.

"I know you hate it. But it's nice knowing for once that it won't just be me in some house on my own,"

"Are you suggesting we all just live together for eternity?" Maarten cracked a small smile at the suggestion before he realised Mircea was serious.

"Yes, why not? It's nice here..." Mircea shrugged.

"It's Erik and Cecilé's home... not ours,"

"You think Cecilé will let Erik die? Do you think Halldór will sit by and watch his brother fade to dust?" Mircea snorted, "There's more people in that house that want him alive than there are people who want me dead."

"Well... when you put it like that," Maarten shook his head gently. "But still, eternity is a long time."

"Yeah I know, I've already lived far beyond comprehension," Mircea sighed. "But eternity doesn't sound so bad when there are others there with you... Alone it's pretty daunting."

"I can imagine..."

"The first century or two it's all fine. But after about ten of them you start to talk to yourself a lot more than what is deemed normal or even acceptable."

"Let me guess, you're the only sane voice when you're that old?"

"Nah, I'm the only one willing to listen to myself," Mircea laughed, but Maarten couldn't even muster a smile.  
Living forever sounded so incomprehensible, yet he was sure it was possible.  
Eternal life was a burden and a gift all tangled into one mess of emotions.

Mircea had lived for one thing only; bring his brother back.  
Maarten didn't know what he was going to live for.  
Hunting vampires only got him so far he supposed.

"What's the worst thing about immortality?" Maarten asked, glancing upwards to the night sky.

"The worst?" Mircea repeated softly.

"Yeah. Is it seeing your loved ones die or...?" he trailed off.

"I only watched one loved one die," Mircea replied. "But it's hard making friends knowing their life is over in the blink of an eye in what is our lifetime."

"Mhm..." Maarten hummed. He didn't doubt Erik would soon join their ranks. Not that he really liked the idea.  
"Turning everyone you love isn't really an option..." he mumbled out loud.

"No," Mircea shook his head, rubbing his hair against Maarten's shoulder in the process.  
"It has to stop somewhere. We can't make all humans vampires. Imagine how much serum we'd need just to keep one city from turning into monsters."

"There would be chaos," Maarten sighed and leant his head against Mircea's.

"A few of us will do," Mircea hummed.

"With the addition of another two maybe..." Maarten added.

"Four," Mircea corrected.

"Four?" Maarten glanced back at the mansion.

"Arthur is still human."

"Oh, we're including him?" Maarten frowned.

"He's still important to your sister, although I'm not sure they're married any more."

"I never did ask if she filed the divorce papers..." Maarten mumbled, "But fine, that's three people. Who's the fourth?"

"Ciprian," Mircea said softly.

"What?" Maarten tried to hide his surprise.

"He's not a vampire... yet..." Mircea muttered. "Or at least I'm not sure he's fully one any more. It's complicated and confusing. Has he been given a serum or asked for anything yet?"  
"No," Maarten said after pondering the question. "Not that I know off. Minus some small fangs I thought he was human. But if he's got your magic that might explain the fangs..." Maarten grumbled.

"We were the same long ago. Not quite human but not what vampires are today," Ciprian explained.

"Oh... suppose that means him having your magic is even worse."

"Yes. It is..." Mircea sighed. "I assumed he turned into what I am, but after dying and being brought back, I'm no longer sure."

"No, components used to bring him back was calculated out of a human body. Not a vampire. There are some minor differences..." Maarten thought it over. If the magic was so hard to deal with, it was certainly not right for one person alone to bear it.

"What if we found a way to share the magic?" he asked.

"With who?" Mircea snorted. "No one would want it if they knew what it did," he rolled his eyes.

"Well..." Maarten cleared his throat. "I could... maybe, uh, share the burden. If it's possible..."

Mircea sat up straight and turned to Maarten with eyes wide in shock.

"You would?" the disbelief was clear in his voice.

"Well, I currently have nothing, so what harm could getting a little do me?"

"But... you'd actually do it? For me?"

"You did mention I had trust issues..." Maarten averted his gaze. "So yeah, a peace offering from my side if you want to call it that," he shrugged.

"You're still doing it willingly!" Mircea smiled widely as he placed his hands on Maarten's shoulders.

"Yes... I decided it's the best and safest outcome for us all, I think you would agree-"  
Maarten was cut of by Mircea's lips on his.

He was frozen in place, too shocked and surprised to even utter a protest until Mircea pulled away with a smile so full of happiness Maarten was certain he had to be dreaming.

"Come on, we need to find Ciprian," he said and offered his hand to Maarten.

"Yes... of course," Maarten blinked and got up from the ground.  
He accepted Mircea's hand with a little more ease than he would have liked to admit, and didn't even bother trying to get out of it as Mircea dragged him back inside.

Maarten still felt dazed and a little confused.  
He wanted to replay the kiss. Make sure it actually had happened.  
Find out what Mircea had actually meant by it too.  
Stupid, stupid thoughts, Maarten decided as he pushed the whole scene away from his memory.  
They had more important things to do.

"Where's Ciprian?" Mircea asked as they entered the kitchen, somewhat surprised to only find Erik, Cecilé, Gilbert and Francis there.

"Upstairs with Annelise, Basch and Anika," Francis replied and pointed to the ceiling.  
"Veronique, Halldór and Arthur are in the library," he added and gave Maarten a concerned look.

"Are they looking for a way to return my magic from Cirpian?" Mircea asked.

No one replied.

Maarten watched their eyes grow wide, exchanging worried glances back and forth between themselves.

"It's okay, I'm not mad," Mircea said, offering a faint smile. "But I want my magic back as soon as possible. For Ciprian's sake and safety," he added softly.

"Oh," Francis let out a sigh of relief, everyone visibly relaxing in their seats.

"Saves us keeping more secrets then," Gilbert grinned.

"Yes, yes. Whatever. I need to speak to him," Mircea grumbled and left, Maarten shrugged and followed suit.

He wasn't sure what to say, but he figured he should stick close by for a little while longer.

Annelise waved at them both as they entered the room, although Anika and Basch seemed to sense something was wrong.

"I need to speak to Ciprian," Mircea said calmly. "Alone," he added a little sternly, giving the rest of the them a cold stare till they nodded and left. Maarten lingered for a moment longer, giving Mircea a concerned glance before he too disappeared – closing the door behind him.  
He had half a mind to stay and listen, but he didn't.

This was something the brothers had to figure out themselves.

Maarten had no place here right now.

"Something wrong?" Ciprian asked once they were alone, his hands tugging at his own clothes in worry.

"Yes," Mircea said as he took a seat next to him.  
"How much do you know?" he asked.

"What do you mean?" Ciprian swallowed nervously and looked at up at his big brother worriedly.

"About me. About everyone here. About yourself?" Mircea replied.

Ciprian stared at the floor and sniffled, visibly shaking.

"Ciprian..." Mircea sighed and knelt down. "I'm not angry. I'm worried. This wasn't what I wanted,"

"But," Ciprian began, biting his lip and trying very hard not to burst into tears.

"No," Mircea cut him off. "You don't get to keep such secrets from me when it hurts you like I know it does."

"I just wanted you to be happy," Ciprian mumbled.

"Silly little brother of mine," Mircea shook his head and laughed, pulling Ciprian into a tight hug. "I am happy. You make me happy," he whispered softly. "But I can't be happy when I know you're struggling," he added.

"I'm learning to control it," Ciprian whispered in return. "The voices aren't so loud any more," he added as he pulled gently on Mircea's shirt.

"The voices never stop, they just come and go at best," Mircea said, threading his fingers gently through his brothers hair. "You're too young for that much energy to be contained within you."

"But it made you happy..." Ciprian whispered, hiding his face in the crook of Mircea's neck.

"I'll still be happy after all of this. I promise," Mircea smiled and gave his brother a playful jab to his sides. "If I'm not you can shave my hair and dress me in whatever you want."

"Well you would look good in a green dress," Ciprian giggled.

"I'm sure I would," Mircea laughed. "So trust me okay? We've got each other. That all we needed to be happy before, and it's all we'll ever need now."

"What about Maarten?" Ciprian whispered.

"Uh," Mircea cleared his throat. "He's a good ally. A Good friend too."

"I like him," Ciprian mumbled softly. "He looks scary at first, but he's nice. I think he's just very scared too..."

"Yeah," Mircea nodded. "I think you're right."

They sat on the floor for a while. No more words, just silence and the comfortable presence of one another.

"It was really dark and cold," Ciprian said quietly. "After the fire I mean..."

Mircea held his breath, not sure he wanted to hear this.  
He wasn't sure he was ready either.

"Do you remember what we were?" Mircea asked carefully.

"Human. Maybe. Or something close to it. We looked like them, and I remember playing outside in the sunshine," Ciprian frowned.

"So we did..." Mircea mumbled in agreement.

"Then you came back one night, very angry and a little strange. After that you never went outside in sunlight..."

"Yes..." Mircea nodded, he had forgotten details along the lines of his long life, but Ciprian was slowly helping him remember.

"After that people in the town didn't really like either of us. You never really told me why..."

"I didn't?" Mircea lied. He'd deliberately not done so at the time to protect him, but now there was little point of hiding anything any more.

"I traded some things away for more power. It wasn't easy. And that's why I'm now known as the 'first' vampire," he explained slowly. "There were others like you and I before, but after my deal with a daemon the others either changed too or died..." Mircea sighed.

"Why did you make a deal?"

"To protect you, why else?" Mircea replied, although he could feel the heavens above him whispering to him that he'd failed that spectacularly.

"From who or what?" Ciprian looked confused.

"Humans. They started to catch on that we weren't like them. But I suppose I just made it worse..." Mircea hung his head low in shame.

"But no one is going to hurt us now, are they?"

"No," Mircea sighed and smiled. "They're not," he gave his brother a tight hug once more, scared that letting go would mean he'd disappear again.  
"But you need to let me take my magic back, it was never meant to grow so powerful within me alone, thus I can't let you bear the burden alone at all."

"It's fine, it's just for a little while longer right?" Ciprian smiled.

"Yes. Just a little longer," Mircea swallowed nervously.  
Maarten's words echoed in his mind.  
Sharing the burden.

It was perhaps possible.

"I think I like it better here than our old house," Ciprian whispered after a while, "Everyone feels like family. I like them."

"I like them too," Mircea admitted. He'd jumped back and forth a lot recently, he knew that. The past few days he had really managed to sort his thoughts out, although he still felt the need to apologise to everyone somehow.  
He'd been so focused on getting Ciprian back that any sliver of humanity had left him so long ago he no longer remembered when he stopped caring about others.

Those memories now haunted him.

"Annelise is really sweet," Ciprian said cheerfully. "And she's not scared of me at all! Not even when I showed her my fangs!"

"Yeah, she's a brave little lady," Mircea chuckled.

"Do you think we can just stay here forever then? Be one big family?"

"That would be nice..." Mircea smiled, unsure if it was possible but unable to ruin his little brother's hopes and dreams.

"Once you get your magic back you can help others turn normal and then humans won't fear us any more either. It will be nice! It will be like before. We can go outside and not hide," Ciprian sounded so excited it was making Mircea's heart sink.

They couldn't go back to how it was before.  
He had ruined that long ago.

However, he could at least right some wrongs.  
Or several.

"Yeah," Mircea nodded slowly. "We can at least try," he smiled and ruffled his brothers hair.

"So Maarten's not angry any more at you?"

"I think he's always going to be a little bitter," Mircea laughed. "But I don't think he hates me any more," he winked and Ciprian giggled happily at his words.

"That's good," Ciprian said thoughtfully. "I like him too when he's not being scary."

"Heh, he can be a little intimidating," Mircea smiled. "But just grin back at him and he'll stop."

"I did that and then he just became scarier," Ciprian frowned.

"Was this when everyone thought something else was out there to get us?"

"Uh. Yes. I think so..."

"Then don't worry. He probably now considers you mostly harmless."

"Am I?" Ciprian looked at his own hands.

"Not in the slightest," Mircea sighed. "But soon you will be."

"Oh good. It tingles in my veins, I don't like it. It's like burning all over again. But from the inside this time."

"Yeah," Mircea swallowed nervously. "It won't be for much longer."  
He certainly hoped so at least.

But if they had brought him back to life, surely they could take the magic out of him.  
Mircea had never been a praying man, even less so when he made a deal with a daemon.  
However; right now he'd try anything. 


	26. Chapter 26

"So what can we do?" Mircea's question hung in the air for what felt like eternity, he had been pacing back and forth in the library while the rest either watched him or read book after book. No amount of fiddling with his fingernails or the buttons on his shirt could calm his nerves. Walking only calmed him a little.

Arthur cleared his throat and glanced over to Veronique.  
"Well," he began, looking nervous. "This isn't easy," he said quietly.

"We brought him back from the dead. Surely taking my magic back isn't going to be worse?!" Mircea grimaced.

"In theory, no," Veronique said and closed the book she was reading. "However, we need to determine if Ciprian is alive and able to stay alive due to the magic or out of his own accord," she sighed.  
"Just removing it from him is an easy enough task in itself. But if it's the only thing keeping him on this side of death then we need to rethink our next step," she added.

Mircea opened his mouth and then promptly closed it.

"Oh," he finally uttered before pacing back and forth in the library again.

"We think we can maybe try to take some of the magic out of him and see how that goes. If it works we can take the rest," Veronique explained and Arthur nodded in agreement.

"However, if he needs magic to stay alive we need to figure out how much we can remove while still keeping him alive," Halldór added.

"So I might only be able to get half of it back?" Mircea paused his pacing.

"Half. A third. Three quarters," Arthur shrugged. "We don't know yet how much he needs or if he needs any at all. It might just be a small fraction of what he has now."

"Either way, it's a lot of calculations and a bit of a risk," Veronique continued. "We can't rush this, even if we wanted to."

"I understand, I understand," Mircea sank into a chair and stared up at the decorative ceiling.  
"I'm just so angry that I'm so useless," he muttered bitterly.

"You're not completely useless," Arthur said in what was most likely meant to be a reassuring tone. "You have more knowledge about your own magic than any of us do. After so many centuries you surely must know something of use."

"Suppose so..." Mircea mumbled. "Not certain I remember it all," he added with a frown, rubbing his own temples.

"Maybe keep a diary?" Veronique suggested. "That way you can keep track of the days and your thoughts. It could also help jog your memory," she smiled sweetly.

"Hm," Mircea nodded thoughtfully. "That might be an idea..." he hummed, tapping his fingers against the armrest of the chair.

"I can't even remember what I had for dinner last week," Arthur chuckled. "I can't imagine how hard it must be to remember what happened to you a century ago." 

"By that logic we should all keep a diary," Halldór muttered.

"You two aren't filled with magic like he is, uh, was," Arthur sighed.

"No. But still..." Halldór shrugged. "You never know..."

"Magic usually grows with the user. The older you are the more likely you are to have more or stronger magic," Veronique explained. "So who knows, maybe we too will struggle to contain ours as the years tick on by?"

"Unlikely," Mircea snorted.

"Why?" Veronique stared at him.

"Because you guys never made a deal with a daemon."

"You what?"

"Made a deal with a daemon," Mircea repeated himself with a sigh.

"You never told us this!" Arthur stood up so fast he knocked over several books.

"Uh," Mircea sat up a little more straight and rubbed his head. "I kind of forgot?"

There was a collective groan from the others at his reply.

"Sorry," Mircea mumbled. "Still struggling with this whole 'I no longer hear voices thing'," he smiled sheepishly.

"Then please start keeping a diary," Arthur sighed. "It might be vital for us all that you remember more."

"Mhm," Mircea nodded in agreement.

"Those voices..." Halldór mumbled. "What did they say?"

"They didn't necessary say anything, it was more like a constant whisper. It's like hearing a lot of people talk in hushed voices in a large room. If you listen you can make out a word or two – but for most of the time it's just background noise," Mircea waved his hands in the air.

"Did they sound like humans?" Halldór inquired curiously, leaning a little forward in his seat.

"Sometimes. Possibly..." Mircea shrugged. "They weren't threatening, just annoying. Like an old radio you can never turn off," he frowned.

"Weird..." Veronique frowned. "I wonder why you heard them..."

"Well if you made a deal with a daemon, I wouldn't be surprised if it was demonic whispers you heard," Arthur rolled his eyes. "God knows the undead are talkative."

"The dead even more so I bet," Halldór snorted.

"No," Arthur shook his head. "Not unless you raise them from the grave first, and at that point they're undead, not dead.."

"You would know," Halldór rolled his eyes.

"Of course," Arthur nodded. "They make for very pleasant afternoon tea guests."

Veronique stared at Arthur wide-eyed before collapsing backward in her seat in a loud fit of giggles.

"What's so funny?" Arthur looked puzzled.

"You having tea with a bunch of zombies," Veronique managed to reply between fits of giggles.

"They are very polite. Even eat the odd scone I burn," Arthur huffed and crossed his arms.

"And you guys called me mad," Mircea sniggered and smirked.

"I'm not mad," Arthur huffed. "I'm eccentric."

"There's no difference," Halldór chuckled.

"What's that quote?" Veronique snapped her fingers. "We're all mad here?"

"All mad and 90% dead," Mircea laughed and flashed a toothy grin.

"Speak for yourself," Arthur scoffed. "I'm still alive."

"But for how long?" Mircea smirked. "Your necromancy magic won't keep you alive."

"Well..." Arthur began, then paused and contemplated Mircea words for a moment. "Okay, you're right. Dammit," he grumbled, looking somewhat upset.

"Did you think you could raise yourself from the dead?" Veronique inquired, trying to hide a smile.

"Sort of," Arthur grumbled.

"If you succeed in that then you'll be the most powerful necromancer ever," Mircea grinned.

"Why do I feel like you're mocking me?" Arthur glared at him darkly.

"Because I am," Mircea said bluntly and smiled even wider.

"Okay, now that you're both done being silly, can we please go back to work?" Veronique sighed. "These books aren't going to tell us the information we need out of their own accord."

"Yeah yeah," Arthur grumbled and opened another book.

Mircea watched them trace the pages with their fingers, his own thoughts lingering on what he could remember.

"I made a deal so Ciprian wouldn't get hurt," he said after a while.

"Hm?" Veronique looked up from the antique book with interest.

"I wasn't always, this," Mircea gestured to himself. "I'm not sure exactly what I was, but it wasn't human and that was a good enough reason for the locals to hate us..." Mircea frowned at the distant and somewhat foggy memory.

"So what happened?" Halldór asked, closing his book softly.

"I found a daemon, took me a while but I did it. And in exchange for unlimited magic and immortality I got a thirst for human blood..." Mircea looked apologetic. "What I didn't realise was that my deal was essentially the beginning of vampires like you know them now."

"So that's what Francis means about him being one of the originals then?" Halldór inquired and turned to Veronique.

"I think so... I think he had parents, maybe they were the same as what Mircea was and changed when he made the deal?" Veronique tapped her chin and looked thoughtful. "It would explain a few things I suppose," she added with a sigh.

"I never guessed everyone else would be affected too! That wasn't my plan," Mircea frowned. "But suddenly it seemed I was vampire 'royalty' or something and the daemon decided that if I wanted something then everyone else got stuck with it too."

"Vampire royalty..." Arthur chuckled. "Interesting concept."

"What if it's not a concept?" Veronique said quietly. "What if you are 'royalty'?"

"Me?" Mircea raised an eyebrow. "You're joking."

"Why not? It would make sense then. If you decided to do a deal then everyone else of your kin would have to follow," Veronique mused. "It's not that far fetched really if you think about it a little."

"Well, he wouldn't be 'vampire royalty' before becoming a vampire," Halldór interjected. "He was something else before that. The question is maybe what he was before a vampire?"

"I fail to see how this is relevant..." Mircea grumbled. "It's in the past."

"It could maybe help determine what Ciprian is now and if he needs magic to stay alive," Veronique explained. "He's not a vampire yet. Or at least not in the traditional sense. Maybe pulling him out from the land of the dead reset him to what you were before?"

"Oh..." Mircea went quiet.

"Maybe it's not relevant. Maybe it's useless info. But if we can find stories about what came before vampires, maybe we can determine what will happen to Ciprian next," Veronique smiled.

"I honestly don't remember much..." Mircea mumbled.

"Surely there will be books," Arthur said a little more optimistically. "There's gotta be stories. Legends even. A footnote some place about what you were before."

"Maybe..." Mircea whispered softly.

"We'll find it," Veronique reassured him. "If we can defy death then we can surely uncover some of your lost memories too."

"Thank you," Mircea smiled. "I don't deserve this and I will spend eternity making it up to you all. That I promise."

"Don't let Maarten or Erik hear you say that, they'll have you working till you die," Halldór chuckled.

"Ah yes, probably," Mircea laughed a little nervously. He wondered what Maarten was doing right now, and if he'd be angry if he went to speak to him.  
Maarten was good at making him remember.  
Mircea didn't know why – but it was easier to sort out his past with Maarten nearby.

"Good thing you can't die then," Arthur laughed.

"Yes," Mircea nodded. "It is..."  
He fell silent and resigned himself to watching them for a while longer.  
After a while he silently got up and left – pacing back and forth in the hallways before starting to look for Maarten.

He wasn't in the kitchen, nor the garden. Meanwhile the living room was occupied by Annelise and Basch – the pair sleeping soundly on the sofa.

He found Cécile in Erik's office, reading a book and drinking tea.

"Interesting place to have tea," he said with a smile.

"Well my husband is in the lab with Maarten, the living room and library is occupied and I don't feel like going to bed yet," Cécile replied politely. "This was the only one left with a good table and chair."

"I see..." Mircea trailed off and diverted his attention to the small selection of books in Erik's office. They ranged from economics to politics to herbal remedies. He smiled and carefully pried one book out from the shelf.

"I remember this one," he said and flipped through the pages of one old and worn gardening book.

"'Good luck with your exams – Mircea &amp; Arthur'" Mircea read out loud the small and very neat inscription on the inside. "Can't believe he actually kept it."

"He doesn't throw books out you know," Cécile smiled.

"Still, it makes me glad he didn't burn it..."

"He'd never do that," Cécile reassured him. "But I think he liked that book. Especially now that we have a very large garden." 

"He always did have a knack for medicine. Herbal or synthetic," Mircea smiled and traced his own signature.

"Yes," Cécile nodded. "I'm rather lucky to have him. But not as lucky as he is to have me."

"Of course not. I distinctly remember you being the sole reason he passed that one exam before summer," Mircea smiled.

"Oh yes. He misplaced everything. Pens, paper, his trousers..." Cécile sighed and rolled her eyes. "He'd forget his own head at times I swear."

"Probably," Mircea snorted.

He carefully placed the book back in it's rightful place.

"Will you turn him?" he asked her, fingers still lingering on the spine of the book.

"Wh-what?" Cécile spluttered a little and tried to compose herself as quickly as she could.

"Turn him. Will you make him a vampire too or leave him to die human?"

"That is not for me to decide," she said sternly.

"It kind of is. You're the one who has to either live with him forever or watch him die..." Mircea's expression was sombre.

"It is still not for me to choose," Cécile crossed her arms.

"Well..." Mircea traced the letters on the spine of the book, refusing to look at her as he spoke. "It's likely his wish you turn him, but you've got to want to do it too."

"If he wants it then I'll consider it."

"You mean you haven't already?" Mircea turned to face her, not believing her for a second.

"No." She shook her head.

Mircea stared at her, waiting for another reply. Tapping his foot gently against the floor as he waited for the truth.

"Yes," she said after a while. "Every day," she added with a whisper.

"Thought so," Mircea smiled.

"If you already knew my answer, why ask?" Cécile crossed her arms and huffed.

"Because," Mircea began, stepping closer and leaning just a little too close for comfort. "It's something you have to come to terms with yourself," he whispered.

Cécile frowned at him and stepped a little backwards.

"My apologies for upsetting you," Mircea straightened himself up. "But I think you might have to choose soon. He's not getting any younger, you on the other hand... you're frozen in time like me."

"I am well aware," Cécile replied coolly.

"Good. Then if you'll pardon me. I need to find someone else in this house," Mircea smiled and bowed politely towards her.

He ignored the glare, even if he felt it directed to the back of his head as he left the room.  
She knew he was right, and at this stage he didn't bother much about being the devils advocate.  
Or accomplice.  
Mircea chuckled to himself.

"Suppose I'm both," he mumbled to himself as he sauntered down the stairs toward the laboratory. 


	27. Chapter 27

Mircea took a deep breath and braced himself before entering the laboratory.

Maarten was the first to notice his arrival and gave a half-hearted wave in his direction. Meanwhile; Erik didn't even register Mircea's presence until he was leaning on Erik's desk and poking his head with a pen.

"What?" Erik said and glared at Mircea coolly.

"You kept the book," Mircea grinned.

"What book?" Erik's expression turned into one of confusion.

"See, now I'm wounded," Mircea feigned hurt. "The one Arthur and I gave you," he clarified.

"Oh, that one..." Erik turned his attention back to the pieces of paper. "It's a good book. Shame to throw it."

"Of course," Mircea smiled knowingly. "Mind if I borrow Maarten?" he asked quickly.

"Yeah? Whatever. Sure," Erik waved his hand lazily, his full attention was focused on the paper.

"Do I not get a say?" Maarten grumbled.

"Nope," Mircea laughed and grasped his hand.

"Fucking hell," Maarten grumbled, yet he made no attempt of wringing his hand free of Mircea's grasp.  
"Where are we even going?" he asked as Mircea led him back up to the ground floor.

"A walk," Mircea hummed.

"A walk?" Maarten gave him a confused look.

"Yes."

"Okay... Where to?" Maarten inquired.

"Not sure. Let's see where we end up," Mircea smiled.

"You're weird," Maarten muttered under his breath.

"You're also not the first one to tell me that," Mircea chuckled as he stepped outside. The grey skies above had turned just dark enough to allow him to wander freely outside.

"Of course not," Maarten rolled his eyes and stuffed his free hand into his pocket. "But where to then? Left or right?"

"Right," Mircea declared and starting walking, tugging at Maarten's arm to make him follow.

There wasn't any protest from Maarten, and Mircea was stupidly happy that Maarten had yet to let go of his hand.

Although, as they passed the second block of houses, Mircea couldn't keep quiet any longer.

"Are you okay?" he asked, slowing his pace down.

"Yeah," Maarten nodded.

"You're very quiet..."

"I'm usually quiet," Maarten grumbled and stopped walking.

"Are you thinking about anything in particular then?" Mircea looked up at him, his head slightly tilted to the right.

"Uh," Maarten's cheeks went pink and he tried to wrap his scarf higher over his face to hide his embarrassment.

"Oh now I need to know," Mircea laughed and gently pulled at Maarten's scarf.

"Stop that," Maarten hissed at him.

"Not until you tell me what you were thinking about!" Mircea smirked.

"I was just thinking..." Maarten began, pausing to clear his throat. "Just thinking this was... nice," he finally admitted.

"Nice?" Mircea's eyebrows rose and his eyes widened.

"Yeah," Maarten mumbled into his scarf. "Never had an opportunity to do, uh, _this_."

Mircea stopped trying to hide his amusement and grinned from ear to ear.

"What are you grinning at?" Maarten half sneered.

"You," Mircea laughed.

"It's not funny," Maarten grumbled.

"Oh come on. Surely you've held hands with someone before!" Mircea rolled his eyes.

"Well... again, not quite like this..." Maarten shrugged. "Work never gave me much time to pursue anything but... well, vampires."

"You must have done something in your spare time," Mircea looked puzzled. "You're now what... 40?"

"I actually turned 32 a few weeks ago," Maarten muttered coolly. "Which means it's now just a little over 2 years since you made me what I now am."

"Still not regretting that," Mircea shrugged.

"I know," Maarten sighed. "Not sure what I think anymore either..."

"Oh, wait. That means I missed two of your birthdays!" Mircea exclaimed.

"Don't make a big deal out of them any more. Clearly that just gets me into trouble," Maarten replied with a shrug and a smirk in Mircea's direction. "God knows my 30th birthday ended with the worst hangover in existence," he laughed dryly.

"Hmmm," Mircea squeezed his hand a little harder. "I should make it up to you then!" he said with a sly smile that made Maarten worry just ever so slightly.

"Make it up to me? Why does that just sound ominous?"

"Because you're still a narrow minded and terrified half human," Mircea grinned and tugged at Maarten's scarf.

"You say that like it's a bad thing," Maarten snorted and leant in closer to Mircea.

"Maybe it is," Mircea chuckled.

"Or maybe it's not..." Maarten mumbled softly before pressing a chaste kiss to Mircea's lips. "I'm warmer than you."

"Yes," Mircea replied a little breathlessly. "I don't mind that at all I think," he added softly.

"Good," Maarten uttered almost inaudibly.

They stood motionless by the side of the road until a car came by, the lights from the headlights bathing them in bright light for a brief moment before their surroundings once more darkened.

"Closer to midnight now..." Maarten whispered.

"Yes, time for people like us to come out and play," Mircea replied.

"Play," Maarten snorted, amused at Mircea's choice of words.

"You heard me," Mircea stepped backwards and dragged Maarten with him. "We can have fun if we want to."

"If you say so," Maarten rolled his eyes as he followed after Mircea.

He held Mircea's hand tightly, finding it oddly comforting and relaxing.  
Mircea no longer offered any real protection beyond his infamy and status amongst vampires.

Magic wise they were now equal.  
Maarten was pretty sure he could overpower Mircea right now if he wanted to, but it wasn't high on his list any more.

They took a seat by a graveyard, the little chapel in the middle was dark – only the street lights offered any light to their surroundings.

"I've always liked churches in a way," Mircea said as he shuffled himself closer to Maarten. "They're very pretty. Shame I can't go inside any more..."

"They are usually built to be beautiful..." Maarten replied and glanced at the building. How long had it been since he himself entered one? A year? Two? Three? He no longer remembered.  
"Hey," he said. "Why can't you go inside? I know holy water burns you and all that, but why?"

"It comes as a package deal when you make a deal with a daemon," Mircea laughed.

"I see," Maarten replied, turning his attention back to the church. There wasn't anything special about the building beyond the stained-glass windows and the cross on the roof. It looked like any other little chapel in the city.

Maarten hummed softly as he thought about the building.

"You made a deal with the daemon to get magic, right?" he asked.

"Yeah," Mircea nodded.

"And in exchange for magic you became a vampire...?"

"Yes," Mircea sighed.

"But right now you have no magic. It's temporary gone. So what if right now you can enter a church? It could be possible since the deal you made has temporarily been broken. Or transferred to Ciprian in a way," Maarten scratched his chin, scrutinising the chapel building with a keen eye.

"Uh, wow. I... never considered that," Mircea uttered, blinking several times and staring at the building as if it was the most fascinating thing in the world right now.

"Maybe we should try?" Maarten asked, standing up slowly and holding his hand out for Mircea to take.

"Worth a go," Mircea replied and took his hand. "But if I start burning you're the one I'm holding responsible."

"Sure. I'll dip you in honey if it happens," Maarten laughed.

"Kinky," Mircea laughed.

"Hardly. It's good for burns," Maarten rolled his eyes.

"So you are a real doctor after all," Mircea joked and winked at Maarten.

"Nah. I won the diploma in a game of poker," Maarten chuckled in reply, smiling as Mircea almost buckled over from laughing.

"I wish I believed that one," Mircea finally managed to utter. "Would make this all so much more interesting."

"Well if you must know I funded about half of my studies by playing poker and taking bets."

"Really?"

"Yeah," Maarten nodded. "I graduated with barely any debt at all."  
"Impressive," Mircea whistled.

"Not really. Others in my year graduated debt free, but the only other job I was offered at the time was as a stripper,"

"And you didn't take it? I'm so disappointed," Mircea frowned.

"I'm not a good dancer," Maarten shrugged.

"That the only reason you didn't do it?"

"Maybe," Maarten smirked.

Mircea laughed and shook his head.

The chapel was still open and Maarten stepped inside first, taking in the interior of the chapel.  
Light from outside filtered through the stained-glass and coloured the walls and floors in all the rainbow's colours. They were a little darker and duller than what he imaged they would be in sunlight, but it was beautiful none the less.

Mircea hesitated by the doorway. He fidgeted and glanced at Maarten nervously.

"Come on," Maarten said and beckoned him inside. 

He watched as Mircea swallowed nervously, closed his eyes, took a deep breath and stepped inside slowly.

Mircea flinched – but nothing happened.

Slowly he opened his eyes, looking both surprised and happy that he hadn't combusted into flames.

"It worked!" he exclaimed and stepped even further inside the chapel, spinning around in a circle as he did so, his coat flaring out around him.

"Yeah," Maarten smiled.

"I've not been inside a holy building in forever," Mircea grinned. "Almost forgot how calming they can be."

"Mhm," Maarten mumbled in agreement.

"No wonder humans run to them in times of need and desperation," Mircea wandered around the chapel, tenderly and carefully running his hand over the various items within the room. For each new item he touched he seemed more and more baffled by the idea that he wasn't burning.

"They offer safety. At least mentally," Maarten shrugged.

"Yeah..." Mircea mumbled, pausing to stare up at the altar. "It's pretty in here," he added.  
"Makes me wish I had actually gone to Arthur and Anika's wedding."

"Same..." Maarten sighed.

"I couldn't even enter the building. Your excuse is that you forgot," Mircea snorted and nudged Maarten with his elbow. "Lousy of you."

"I know I know."

"I even missed Erik and Cécile's wedding," Mircea sighed. "That's actually a little upsetting. Both my friend got married and I couldn't see it."

"If you beg Cécile might let you see the photos."

"But it's not the same is it? I'd love to be at a real wedding. I imagine it's very happy."

"Yeah, it is. Usually," Maarten nodded.

"I think I wanted to get married once," Mircea hummed. "Long, long, long ago of course. But it always sounded like a fun thing to do. Promise to be with someone for eternity."

"Till death do us apart," Maarten quoted dully.

"Doesn't really work when you can't die," Mircea laughed softly.

"Mhm. Wonder what God's stance is on people turning into vampires while married..." Maarten hummed.

"Do you think God cares?" Mircea asked, gaze fixated on the altar.

"I don't think God cares much about anything any more. If God even cared at all to begin with," Maarten shrugged. "It's at least hard to see if he ever did..."

Mircea didn't reply, he just continued looking at the altar and the mural above it.

"Did you believe in a god?" he asked him after a while.

"I suppose I still do," Mircea shrugged. "Daemons are real. I know as much. And while I've never seen an angel and probably never will, I assume they exist. Light and dark. All that," he waved his hand and sighed. "What about you?"

Maarten mulled the question over.  
"I think I do too..." he said after a while. "Faith wavers a lot with me I think. But it does help when fighting things that live in the dark..."

"Yeah," Mircea laughed. "You can smell the strong faith some people have at times, it's weird."

"I imagine so..."  
Maarten's gaze fell to his own hands.  
Maybe they did look a little empty.

Erik and Cécile's hands always bore a ring. He imagine they'd feel naked without it.  
Although right now, Maarten thought his hand looked awfully bare too.

"Hey, Maarten?"

"Yes?"

"Do you think vampires can get married? In god's name I mean..."

"I...uh. Don't know," Maarten gave Mircea a puzzled look. "I'd tell you to ask a priest, but I doubt that would go down very well."

"Hm," Mircea frowned.

"Why do you ask?" Maarten felt his heart beat faster, not really sure if he wanted to know the answer.

"I just wanted to know if I'd be able to marry one day," Mircea shrugged.

"I see..." Maarten mumbled.

"But once my magic returns I suppose that can't happen in here anyway," he sighed. "Just have to make the most of tonight then, right?"

"Mhm..." Maarten bit his lip, stepping closer to Mircea and slowly winding his arm over the shorter man's shoulders. Mircea welcomed the gesture, leaning his head against Maarten's shoulder and smiling softly.

"It's not too bad though is it?" he asked and Mircea just laughed in reply.  
"What's funny?" Maarten asked, glancing down at Mircea.

"I like you a lot more when you're optimistic," Mircea replied and grinned up at him.

"Shame I'm usually just a grumpy pessimist then," Maarten snorted.

"Eh," Mircea shrugged lightly. "I can learn to like that too."

"How reassuring," Maarten muttered into his scarf, hoping the little chapel was dark enough to hide his flustered face.

"It is, isn't it?" Mircea laughed before linking his arm with Maarten's.  
"But lets get going, I don't really belong here..."

"Neither of us do," Maarten whispered.

"Do we belong anywhere any more?" Mircea asked as they left.

"Probably not, but I'm starting to like the mansion a lot," Maarten replied with a smile.

"Oh yes, it's probably the closest thing to a good home I've had in centuries," Mircea nodded.

"Yes..." Maarten mumbled. "It's home. Somehow." 


	28. Chapter 28

"It's not too cold tonight," Maarten said and glanced up at the night sky above them, deliberately taking slower steps as they made their way home.

"I'd categorise this as warm," Mircea shrugged.

"Bullshit," Maarten snorted. "Even Erik thinks this would be cold, and I swear that man could sleep in an ice cave."

Mircea laughed and shook his head.  
"I don't doubt it," he added, unable to stop smiling.

"I can't remember it being this cold in a long time," Maarten said and watched his breath fog in front of his eyes.

"I can. I think," Mircea's smile turned into a frown. "Or maybe it was..." he trailed off before sighing loudly. "Never mind. I don't remember details like that any more either."

"Write down what you do remember then," Maarten suggested once more, unsure if Mircea even remembered the last time he'd mentioned it. "From start to finish, write your story down. I suggested a diary before, maybe you really should look into making one."

"But what if I'm not quite sure I remember things right?"

"No one ever does. The mind is easily tricked or fooled into remembering false information," Maarten sighed. "But write down what you do remember. I'm sure you can confer with everyone else about recent details..."

"Ah, yes. Good plan," Mircea smiled a toothy grin. "I've told myself lies so many times I'm still sometimes convinced it's true," he added and frowned.

"You told yourself the lies or did the voices do it?" Maarten inquired with a wry smile.

"Both I suppose," Mircea shrugged. "I don't know any more. Does it matter?"

"Maybe," Maarten scratched his head before tugging a little at his scarf. "I don't make deals with daemons, nor do I posses or understand magic... I'm not the right man for such questions."

"Heh," Mircea shrugged. "I'll ask Veronique then."

"Probably a wiser choice," Maarten nodded, almost sad when they reached the mansion.

"Tomorrow," Mircea whispered. "I'll ask her tomorrow."

"I don't think she sleeps either," Maarten reminded him.

"I need to write down what I need to ask her..." Mircea explained. "Write down things I need to know..."

"Ah..." Maarten scratched his head. "I see..." he mumbled. "Come find me if you need help," he added and Mircea smiled so brightly Maarten momentarily forgot he had once hated him.

Still it was hard to shake the feeling of something still lurking around the corner, especially when the whole mansion was as quiet as a tomb.  
He knew very few people would be sleeping, but there wasn't a sound to be heard besides the ticking from numerous clocks situated round the whole house.

The stairs didn't creak as he made his way upstairs, taking extra care not to make a sound as he passed his sister's bedroom. If she was sleeping he wanted it to stay that way.

Maarten's own room was as cold as outside, the cool breeze making his curtains flutter.

He closed the window slowly. Taking a moment to admire the night-sky before he drew the curtains and retreated to his desk.

He had read the same page ten times by now and still couldn't comprehend the information.  
Maarten knew he was tired, but there was no way could he sleep.  
It annoyed him how little he knew about magic, and how little he understood about it all.

Both Veronique and Halldór had been kind enough to try and explain it all to him, but it went well over his head no matter what.  
Even Cécile had tried to weigh in with the little knowledge about her own magic she now possessed – but Maarten still didn't understand it.

You couldn't explain magic with facts and figures.  
It was as much of a physical entity as oxygen, hard as fire and as visible as radio waves.  
Hard to grasp in other words, Maarten had concluded.

Many spells apparently were visible to vampires. Runes glowed a particular way Gilbert had said, but that didn't mean he knew how to use them.  
Veronique knew. To her the glow told her what each thing could do.

To Maarten the various magical symbols were just symbols. No fancy light or anything accompanied them in his eyes. They were just ink on parchment to him.

In the end he'd decided maybe most magic was only visible to certain people because they saw more colours.

Vampires had better eyesight, that much he knew, so maybe people who possessed magic could see more colours? Or at least saw more of the colour spectrum.  
Maarten wasn't sure if his theory held water at all, not unless he got to dissect some vampire eyes to check for the colour receptor cones, but it put his mind at ease for now as to why magic eluded him so.

He was almost nodding off when a loud knock sounded.

"Yes?" Maarten called out, surprised to see Arthur opening the door.

"We found it!" he said, breathing heavily as he spoke.

Maarten stared at him.

"The solution," Arthur elaborated. "We know how to give Mircea his magic back."

"What?" Maarten stammer forward. "Really?"

"Yes," Arthur nodded. "Veronique figured it out," he added.

"That's... great," Maarten swallowed nervously.

"You don't sound convinced," Arthur closed the door behind him and gave Maarten a suspicious look.

"Well, Mircea filled with magic might make him, well, unstable," Maarten frowned. "He himself knows that..."

"We found a loophole," Arthur whispered.

"Loophole?" Maarten stood up from his desk. "What? How?"

"Veronique is probably better at explaining it," Arthur sighed. "But as far as I gathered what we do is change the details of Mircea's contract just a little bit. It will give him less magic and ease the burden on his shoulders."

"And the magic he doesn't get, where does it go?" Maarten asked. "Back to the daemon he made a contract with?"

"No," Arthur shook his head. "Someone else has to take it. She figured out how to transfer it safely."

"Oh..." Maarten went quiet. He'd said he'd do it, but now he was having second thoughts.  
"Is it dangerous?" He asked, brows furrowed in concern.

"Details, details," Arthur rolled his eyes and waved his hand lazily around. "Veronique can tell you more. I'm just here to get you."

"I see..." Maarten grumbled. "Fine. Suppose I've gotta go listen to what the plan is," he sighed.

"You're the one making everyone help Mircea. Least you can do now is hear us all out," Arthur crossed his arms and glared at him, which only made Maarten's guilt double.

"I know, I know," He muttered, motioning for Arthur to lead the way. He really hated having the necromancer walk behind him. Although he wasn't sure Arthur was too comfortable around him either. He hadn't asked if his dagger had left any scars, and now he felt like too much time had passed for him to bring it up.

The hallway seemed just a little longer than usual as they made their way towards the living room, Maarten's mind a muddle of questions and emotions.

"Ah you're here!" Veronique smiled and waved him over, patting the sofa next to her the moment she spotted him.

Maarten hesitantly took a seat, trying to ignore the fact that Gilbert was smiling rather smugly at him.

"So..." he said and glanced around the room. "You found a solution?"

"Yes," Veronique grinned. "We did."

"You did," Halldór corrected her, but she waved him off.

"It's fairly straight forward. Well," she paused and winked. "At least in terms of magic."

"That's really comforting to know," Maarten grumbled.

"Oh don't be like that," she shushed him. "I'll explain it all, don't worry."

Maarten frowned and crossed his arms, but didn't interrupt her again.

"Much like dragging Ciprian's soul out of limbo, we can reverse the process to put the magic back to where it is supposed to be," Veronique explained. "Of course, to ensure we don't just accidentally give someone a massive power boost they can't handle we've thought it's better if we try to split the magic."

"Split it how?" Maarten asked wearily.

"Mircea will of course get at least half of it back. But if we can, maybe we can leave Ciprian with a little bit of it, and..." she looked at him with a half smile.

"Someone else takes the rest?" Maarten finished for her.

"Yes," Veronique beamed. "We've already figured out what tattoos we can use to channel the magic to other people. This won't be any issue at all!"

"Famous last words," Gilbert muttered, but Veronique simply shushed him.

"We did bring someone back from the dead," Halldór interjected and pointed to Ciprian, who was sitting on a chair and swinging his legs happily back and forth. "This isn't exactly more difficult."

"Just a few minor details to be polished out," Arthur laughed dryly.

"But we've sorted that out!" Veronique grinned and passed a piece of paper over to Maarten.  
"This tattoo acts like Mircea's passport to the world of the dead on his wrist. It will help absorb the magic from Ciprian."

"I see..." Maarten stared at the intricate circle with a spiral inside it – runes he didn't recognise scrawled around the edge.  
To his untrained eye it at least looked like it would do what they said it would do.  
He could only imagine what Veronique and Halldór saw when they looked at it. A rainbow of colours glowing? A singular colour? Something he didn't even have a name for?

Maarten shuddered, it was making his head hurt trying to wrap his mind around it.

"We've found everything we need. If need be we can do this tomorrow," Arthur said calmly.

"So soon?" Maarten blinked in surprise.

"Magic is easy when you know how to do it," Veronique smiled. "Ciprian has already said he is willing to keep some magic, so now we need at least one more person. However, it can't be any of us," she paused and gestured to the vampires in the room. "Seeing as we all have magic. Nor can we give it to Arthur, as he also posses magic."

"So that leaves myself, Anika and Erik?" Maarten raised an eyebrow and frowned.

"Yes," Veronique nodded. "And Annelise," she added.

"Anika and Annelise are out of the question," Maarten grumbled.

"You don't get to decide that," Anika huffed. "I can choose for myself."

"Humans shouldn't have magic. Look at Arthur," he pointed to the Englishman, who looked genuinely offended.

"Fair point," Anika replied with a pout.

"And let me guess..." Maarten cast a glance towards Basch. "You'd kill us all if we even tried to suggest Annelise, wouldn't you?"

Basch nodded, not averting his very angry glare for one second.

"So that leaves Erik and myself..." Maarten sighed.

"Both of you would be good candidates," Arthur hummed. "Erik had a witch for a mother, while you're half way to becoming a vampire. Both of you should be able to handle magical powers well."

"However, I don't want to force either of you to do this..." Mircea said softly. "My magic isn't like everyone else's. It's more dangerous per say..."

"Don't we know it," Cécile mumbled.

"So... Maarten or me..." Erik sighed.

Maarten hated the silence that filled the room. It was suffocating.

He didn't want the magic. He doubted anything good could come off it at all.  
Yet he did feel like he should step up and help. He owed everyone that much.

"I'll do it," Erik said and Maarten's words died in his mouth.

"Excellent!" Veronique grinned.

"Wait. I'll do it too," Maarten cut in. "The more that share it the less of a burden it might be, right?"

Veronique grinned from ear to ear at his words.

"That solves that problem then," Halldór sighed. "You up for tattooing yourself Erik?"

"Where does the tattoo have to go?" Erik glanced at his wrist.

"Preferably your chest," Veronique said and shrugged. "But your wrist would do too I suppose."

"Eh, might need some help then," Erik mumbled and squeezed Cécile's hand.

"So how long will it take you?" Mircea inquired, smiling ever so slightly.

"I'm sure I'll just need a few hours to tattoo him," Cécile smiled. "By tomorrow both he and Maarten will be branded like cattle," she giggled.

"Great! We'll make sure everything else is ready," Veronique smiled.

"We going back to the same place as last time?" Cécile asked, a little hesitant.

"Yes. It's a good place to gather energy," Arthur nodded.

"Time?" Anika asked.

"Time?" Maarten looked at her with curiosity.

"Yes. Night time? Day time? What time should we do this?" she elaborated.

"Mid-day will do nicely we think," Halldór shrugged. "This doesn't require opening up the gates of the underworld or anything."

"In that case I propose we all get some rest of some sort," Francis stood up and clapped his hands together. "Even if half of us don't sleep," he added with a laugh.

There was a mumble of agreement from everyone and slowly everyone made their way back to their rooms.

Maarten caught Erik on the way out, whispering that he'd like to have a word with him.

"You sure you're okay with this?" he asked in a hushed tone.

"Yes."

"This is dangerous magic."

"I know."

"And it doesn't bother you?"

"Let's see. My brother is a vampire. So is my wife. They both posses magic – something I've tried to study myself for years. Come on. What do you think?"

"That you're a fucking idiot."

"Thank you," Erik laughed.

"No, I mean it. You're an idiot for doing this."

"And what does that make you?" Erik smirked. "An even bigger idiot?"

Maarten blushed, but tried to hide it by frowning at Erik.  
"I'm upholding my end of a bargain," he said through gritted teeth.

"That all?" Erik crossed his arms, not convinced in the slightest.

"Yes," Maarten grumbled. However, Erik didn't budge a millimetre – his glare piercing Maarten like a cold spear.

"Fine," he hissed. "I promised I'd help him. And lately I've been nothing short of fucking useless. I feel guilty okay... really, really guilty..." he barely managed to utter the last words coherently.

"Guilty?" Erik wasn't following.

"I dragged everyone else into this... and it was really a personal vendetta at the start..." Maarten mumbled.

"Mircea was fucking people's lives up before he even knew your name. Sure, there's been a few setbacks and things we can all probably say we'd like to be without...however," Erik smiled ever so slightly at him. "We're all still here... plus the additional vampires in the basement," he added and chuckled.

"Still, I'm sorry. I want to make it up to people," Maarten sighed.

"I don't think anyone here is holding too many grudges," Erik said softy. "You don't have to be the self appointed hero," he added with a wry smile.

"I'm not..." Maarten mumbled. "It's just that..." he trailed off again.

"Guilty," he finally said. "I can't shake the feeling of guilt off me."

"If you're going to mope about the current situation then go hide in the shadows or something," Erik rolled his eyes. "I'm not forced into anything here, I'm choosing what I want. And as you know – the more people the better."

"I know, I know," Maarten rubbed the back of his head and stared at the carpet.  
"Out of all the emotions I've got left, guilt refuses to let go."

"Figure it out. Everyone else is moving forward, so don't think we're all turning around now to join your self-pity part," Erik gave Maarten a light punch to the arm. "That bridge is burnt, drowned and ancient history. Tomorrow we get to see what they see, and I for one can't wait."

Maarten nodded somewhat hesitatingly as Erik strolled out the room, whistling a quiet tune.

If Erik was talking this all so calmly, maybe he should too?

He stared at his own hands, wondering what magic would really feel like.

This was like science he decided. Research.  
No wonder Erik was so willing to do it.

One step further in so many fields.

Maarten chuckled to himself at the thought.

Out of all humans in the world to give magic to, Erik was certainly not the worst decision out there.


	29. Chapter 29

Maarten didn't feel like resting.

He couldn't even sit still.

Instead he paced his room restlessly. Glancing at the clock on the wall and mumbling to himself.

The piece of paper burned in his pocket and he felt compelled to look at it every five minutes – just to see if he suddenly understood its true significance and power.  
Yet it always remained the same. Ink on paper. A circle and some straight lines inter-crossing here and there. It was just a symbol to him – it held no meaning beyond what he knew it would do.

It was like Cécile said; they would be branded.

Maarten wasn't sure he liked that idea at all.  
Too many factors were unknown to him – things he didn't even know about could go wrong.  
It was unfamiliar territory in every sense and Maarten didn't like going into the unknown like this.  
God knew he had done so far too many times so far. 

He asked himself the same questions over and over again. 

Was it dangerous?  
Most likely.

Would it hurt?  
Definitely.

Was it a bad idea?  
One hundred percent yes.

Maarten sighed deeply and ran his fingers through his own hair. 

He really needed to hear from someone that this was the right thing to do. Someone who knew enough to tell him what he needed to know in a way he could understand.

Erik was probably his best bet here he decided.  
He knew both he and Cécile would be awake still; and considering they were going to do this together, Maarten figured it was his best bet to clear his mind.

Ask a few questions. Talk it all over.  
Sort out his own thoughts.

Simple.

He found them in the basement and unfortunately he walked right in on Erik sitting shirtless in his chair, Cécile in deep concentration as she finished the tattoo on her husband's chest.

"Never learnt to knock did you?" Erik said with a slight wry smile.

"I'm sorry," Maarten mumbled, averting his gaze. It felt like he'd walked into something far too intimate that he shouldn't bear witness to.  
He heard Erik chuckle, and then Cécile berate him for moving too much.

"I'm almost done if you want to have a look," Cécile said softly after a moment and Maarten hesitantly lifted his gaze up towards Erik.

The tattoo was centred just above his heart, the circle about 5 centimetres in diameter – a swirl curling inwards to a small dot in the midst of it all.  
Simple in essence.

The runes however; they were a little more complicated.

Maarten frowned at the sight. He wasn't really sure what the runes all meant; and despite the fact that the others had told him it was to do with channelling and containing magic, he still couldn't quite grasp each rune's true significance.

"It looks good at least," he mumbled as he took a closer look at Erik's tattoo.

"Well your turn next," Cécile grinned.

"Can't wait," Maarten replied through gritted teeth.

"Come on, your pain tolerance is inhuman now. Surely you can handle a tattoo?" Erik smiled wryly at him.

"Pardon me then," Maarten bit back. "I just don't like being branded with words I don't understand."

"I thought we made it quite clear..." Erik looked puzzled now. "They guide the magic from outside and concentrate it here," he pointed to the centre of the circle. "The runes help channel and lock the magic in place, effectively acting as a key and will help us actually have control over it."

"So each rune will have to be one hundred percent correct?"

"Yes."

Maarten frowned.  
"This is doing wonders for my nerves," he sighed. "Please tell me you won't make any mistakes."

"Well I'll try not to. However even if I make the runes correct they still have to stay on your skin for long enough to challenge the magic. I mean.. if you heal over the ink too quickly or something then gods know what will happen to you once we try to channel magic into you," Erik waved his arm around, seconds away from going on a long ramble about the importance of runes.

"You know what," Maarten sighed. "Just get it over with. I don't care any more," he grumbled as he unbuttoned his shirt, muttering to himself as he regarded the chair Erik sat in as a torture device.

"Well I think we can use regular ink for you too," Erik hummed. "No need for garlic to be added here since it has no effect on you at all."

"Lucky," Cécile sighed. "I do kinda miss garlic in my food."

"You don't need to eat," Maarten pointed out bluntly.

"Doesn't mean I don't enjoy it," Cécile huffed. "Although I do miss garlic..." she sighed.

"It won't kill you to have a slice of garlic bread," Erik reminded her. "But I don't think you should eat it, considering I might have to pump you full of other vitamins afterwards."

"I know," Cécile sulked. They had all witnessed Gilbert's attempt at eating a whole loaf of garlic bread – for then to struggle with breathing. It hadn't been a pretty sight and if Erik had been less of a quick thinker Maarten was certain the albino vampire would have been nothing more than dust now.

"Anyway," Erik mumbled as he gave Cécile's head an affectionate pat. "Let's swap seats and we'll get your tattoo over and done with too."

"Uh.." Maarten grimaced slightly as he swapped seats with Erik, glancing over at Cécile who had now perched herself on top of Erik's desk.  
"Are you staying too?" he asked her a little wearily as he removed his shirt completely, now a little bit self-conscious about the numerous scars all across his chest and back. Scars that never healed.  
He had hoped his 'new' super regenerative abilities would erase them all – but it seemed that he was stuck with the ones he had forever.

"Why not?" Cécile smirked. "I'm here to ogle him. Not you," she giggled and Maarten wanted to move his chair far away from the both of them.

"Ugh Erik please put on a shirt," Maarten mumbled.

"What's wrong with my chest?" Erik looked offended at the idea that he had to cover himself up. "What have I got that you haven't seen before?" he looked down at his own chest with a frown. "Seriously. Minus the tattoos..." Maarten heard him mumble to himself.

"That's not the problem. I don't care how many tattoos you have. Or why the fuck you even have some of those, is that a serpent of sorts?" Maarten shook his head, aware he was now rambling. "Never mind don't answer that. It's more the- oh fuck this," Maarten sighed. "Just get this damned thing done with quickly."

"Can't rush runes and sigils," Erik explained as he picked up the tattoo needle and inspected it thoroughly. "One wrong line and we'll be putting the magic somewhere we don't want it."

"Great," Maarten grumbled. As if he wasn't nervous enough before.  
If he survived this he would need a very long holiday. At least a year.

The tattoo needle wasn't really painful. He was far too numb for such a small thing to do any real damage, which Erik discovered meant he healed a lot faster than he had anticipated.

"Fucking hell your skin almost grows over the needle before I can drag it out again," Erik hissed. "Maybe I should add garlic to this ink as well..."

"Sure, if you think that will make it work," Maarten shrugged. "Get it over with..."  
He was a little surprised he healed as fast as he did, but refused to let it show.

He waited patiently as Erik dug out the ingredients for the ink he'd used on Mircea, trying very hard to not appear as nervous as he felt.

Ten minutes later and Erik was back and ready for another attempt.

"Now see this works just fine," he hummed happily as Maarten's skin didn't try to heal over the needle.

"Great," Maarten gritted his teeth. He could feel a dull ache in his chest as the tattoo grew larger and larger; and while it wasn't enough to make him panic, it certainly made him more nervous.

Cécile and Erik didn't seem bothered by it at all – Cécile was even singing softly to herself.

Maarten didn't even notice that there were other's watching him until Erik declared it all done and he stood up to retrieve his shirt.

He paused as he spotted a pair of green eyes locked on to him.

"How long have they been awake?" he whispered to Erik.

"Hm?" Erik looked up at Maarten before following his gaze. "Oh!" he uttered in surprise as he saw what Maarten was looking at.

"Wonderful!" Erik exclaimed and near jumped over to the cages. "You're all awake!" he was positively ecstatic. Thankfully Cécile was right at his heels – reminding him to put on a shirt now that their other guests were awake.

"Welcome to our home," Cécile smiled as Erik tried to button his shirt up far too quickly, resulting in several buttons being in the wrong place.

"Welcome? To this prison?" one of the vampires replied coolly. "You must be joking."

"Not at all, this is really just a precaution for the few humans left in this house," Cécile explained to the pale haired vampire. "Neither of you have been yourself recently, surely you must have realised that yourself."

"Well..." the woman sneered but didn't object to Cécile's words.

"My name is Cécile. This is my husband Erik, and that tall man over there would be Maarten," Cécile held her hand out for the other woman to shake and slowly she extended her hands out between the bars to take Cécile's hands.

"Natalia," the woman replied. "That there is Ivan and Oksana, my siblings," she explained flatly as she pointed to two other vampires contained within cells, who in turn waved and smiled rather sweetly at Cécile.

"Very nice to meet you all," Cécile smiled at them all in return. "And you sir?" Cécile turned to the green eyed vampire, who had yet to say a word – just kept his gaze on Maarten.

"His name is Antonio," another vampire further down the line of cells replied. "And you won't get a word out of him as long as that Vampire hunter is in the same room."

"Oh..." Cécile turned around and looked at Maarten. "Do you know one another?" she asked.

"Vaguely..." Maarten grumbled.

"Well if he won't talk, you guys will right?" Cécile said as she made her way down to the other cells.  
She paused once she got to the vampire who had spoken up – eyes wide as she stared at the man behind the bars.

"Romano?" she whispered.

"Cécile?" Romano replied, just as surprised at seeing her as she was at seeing him.

"Ohmygod I didn't recognise you before I'm so sorry," Cécile looked distraught as her cousin smiled sheepishly. "Don't worry. I didn't recognise myself either," he tried to laugh. "Neither did Feliciano," he gestured to the cell next to him and Cécile looked as if she was about to faint.

"You're both vampires?" she nearly shrieked. "And you didn't tell me?"

"Ah yes. What a great thing to mention in our Christmas cards," Romano mumbled. "Hello cousin dearest. Feliciano and I have had an unfortunate incident and we're now actually dead. Merry Christmas. We can't go to mass ever again." Romano frowned. "I don't see you informing us about your little transformation," he hissed the last words and Cécile blushed.

"Idiots," Cécile huffed quickly. "Erik," she turned to her husband. "Get the keys."

"Hang on..." Erik rummaged through his desk, producing the keys to the prison cells.

"Wait just one fucking moment," Maarten grabbed the keys from Erik's hand and stared at the long line of vampires in their respective cells.  
"What guarantee do we have that none of you will hurt anyone when we let you out?"

"Our word?" Feliciano offered. "Will that be good enough?"

"For you. Maybe. However, I doubt he'll give me that much," Maarten spat and gestured to the green eyed vampire.

"You'd be so lucky," the vampire hissed in return.

"Right, care to explain? Anyone?" Cécile crossed her arms and looked at Maarten defiantly.

"This fucker dated my sister once," Maarten muttered darkly.

"You murdered my brother!" the vampire screamed, hands curled around the silver bars as he bared his fangs at Maarten.

"Oh here we go again," Erik sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Just once I wish things could go without a hitch."

"Hey. I murdered no one," Maarten spat. "He's lying."

"You're the liar here," Antonio spat back, eyes glowing with rage. "I don't know what you've told the others or what lies you've told yourself ,but you killed him."

"Well if I did then he clearly had it coming now didn't he?" Maarten replied flatly.

"I'll kill you!" Antonio yelled and beat his fists against the bars.

"Just you fucking try," Maarten took a step closer to the cell as he spoke. "Just you fucking try."

"Let me out of her and I'll give it a good go," Antonio hissed, fingers wrapped tightly against the bars, and Maarten could see he was trying to bend them apart.

"Sorry. I don't let vampires out if they can't be trusted. I've got human to protect."

"I have no desire to hurt any little weak human," Antonio spat at Maarten's feet. "Only you."

"Well you better get used to this little cell then," Maarten smirked. "It'll be your new home from now on I think."

"You can't lock me up forever!"

"Want to bet?" Maarten crossed his arms.

"Okay, both of you calm the hell down," Erik interjected and stepped up between them. "This is ridiculous. What are you two? Five years old?"

"He murdered my brother!" Antonio pointed accusingly at Maarten.

"Yes I heard that. We all heard that," Erik sighed. "And Maarten said he didn't."

"So you're taking his word over mine?" Antonio snarled.

"I'm taking no ones word right now," Erik snapped. "You're both going to explain yourself fully and then I'll decide what we do," he said with such authority Antonio's frown momentarily changed into an expression of surprise.

"This is my home. I decide who stays here or not," Erik continued, turning around to snatch the keys away from Maarten. "Now, if everyone promises not to harm anyone else I am more than willing to let you all out. And my word here is law."  
He said the last word firmly, glaring at Maarten for a moment before his expression softened as he handed the keys to Cécile.

Maarten had far too many counterarguments swirling around his mind to formulate one properly into words. Erik was right.  
Yet, also not.

All he could think as Cécile began unlocking the doors to her cousin's cells was that this was a horrible mistake.


	30. Chapter 30

Maarten was terrified to say the least.

He wasn't scared of the vampire – the man wouldn't be able to harm him enough to cause any permanent damage any way.  
He was however _very_ scared for his sister's life.

"I didn't kill your 'brother'," he tried to explain again, but it didn't seem like the vampire was going to listen at all.

"Liar!" Antonio hissed back. "Who else would it be? There's only one vampire hunter in Europe."

"Tch, no," Maarten sneered. "There's only _one_ well known one out there; _me_," he hissed angrily. "There's plenty of idiots calling themselves vampire hunters, some better than others. But none are as good as me," he added a little too smugly.

Antonio growled at him and tried to claw at Maarten through the bars of the cage.

Erik seemed to be developing the biggest headache in the world – or at least that's what Maarten assumed was happening when he cast a glance back at him. Given that the poor man was rubbing his temples and muttering darkly to himself he couldn't be having the best of days. He looked utterly exhausted.

Cécile on the other hand had let her two cousins out of their cells, a move that had made Maarten somewhat bitter. Family or not family; he didn't trust them yet.

The three vampire siblings were soon to follow and Maarten couldn't help but think that the mansion was starting to get a little _too_ crowded.

However, none of the vampires but Antonio had any grudge against him right now, so Maarten decided he'd deal with the rest later.  
First on his list was Antonio – and if he didn't stop spitting and screaming at him Maarten was going to ram a stake through his mouth.

"You're not making any sense with all that yelling," Maarten bit back, fingers itching to silence Antonio.

"Sense?!" Maarten's words just fuelled Antonio's anger further.

"Are you okay?" Oksana whispered to Erik, worried expression plain as day on her face.

"If everyone shut up they I would be," Erik mumbled in reply as Cécile rubbed his back.

"This is your house, right?" she asked him.

"Ours," Erik corrected and pointed to Cécile.

"Ah yes. Yours," Oksana smiled at Cécile warmly. "You let vampires stay here?"

"Yes," Cécile replied. "It started with his little brother and Maarten. And now there's a total of twenty five people here," she sighed.

"Few humans," Oksana stated matter of factly. "Smell of vampires and magic is much stronger than the scent of humans."

"Yes. Please don't harm the few humans left here," Cécile said softly and glanced over towards Maarten and Antonio – who were still screaming at one another and getting nowhere at all with it.

"I wasn't planning to," Oksana replied softly. "I don't think any of us have any plans of that, right?" she turned to her siblings, who both nodded soberly in reply.

"Much appreciated," Cécile smiled warmly back, relieved that at there was more sense and civility in these vampires.

"However. Him..." Oksana gestured towards Antonio. "He is causing your husband distress, right?"

"A headache from the both of them," Erik muttered in reply. "I am too mortal for this nonsense," he sighed deeply.

"Shhh. It's okay. They'll run out of breath eventually," Cécile tried to soothe him, although she couldn't help but send an ice cold glare at the two men.

"Fear not. I'll shut them up," Ivan whispered darkly, turning on his heel and marching over to the two men with a wicked smile.

"Is that wise?" Cécile whispered to Oksana.

"Ivan won't kill them," Natalia replied matter-off factly. "Don't worry."

Her words only calmed her somewhat, and Cécile's eyes widened as Ivan picked up Maarten by the back of his shirt, lifting him a good few centimetres off the floor with ease.  
Antonio didn't have the luxury of having as much space as Maarten did to move, so Ivan yanked him hard against the bars before the man had a change to back away.

"You are both behaving like children. No one likes that," Ivan said darkly. "We are guests here. It would be wise to do as the good lady and man says, yes?"

Antonio muttered something only Ivan heard and his expression darkened even further.  
"I suggest you do not repeat such words around me," Ivan hissed. "You owe this human man a lot. He saves us all from living like rabid animals. So I think you should be silent until spoken to. Are we speaking the same language?"

"Yes," Antonio spat.

"Good," Ivan smiled sweetly and released them both from his grip.

"Well that was effective," Cécile whispered. "Never thought I'd see Maarten be picked up from the floor," she added with a small smirk.

"Gods I wish I had a camera now," Erik whispered back.

"That went well," Oksana smiled at her little brother as he happily marched back to her side.

"Let us see... who are the rest of you then?" Cécile looked at the other vampires, curious as to what their names and stories were.

"I'm Elizabeth," a brunette woman holding a dark haired man bridal style stepped up and grinned. "This is my husband Roderick."

"Greetings," Roderick said and gave a half hearted wave. "If you have a chair I can sit on I'd be really grateful. As great as being carried is, it does get a bit dull after a while."

"Uh, certainly," Erik said and offered the Vampire his own chair. "Sorry for asking, but do your legs not work?"

"Not at all," Roderick sighed. "I actually hoped they'd start working once I became a vampire. That's what the one who turned me promised. But no," he huffed. "Still can't walk."

"We can get you a wheelchair!" Cécile clapped her hands together. "That's not a problem at all."

"Very generous of you," Roderick smiled. "I did have one, but I'm not sure what it went after we, uh," he coughed and looked at the floor embarrassedly.

"After we went a bit crazy," Elizabeth finished for him with a shrug.  
"These two youngsters are Matthew and Alfred," she added with a warm smile and beckoned for the two teens to come forwards. "They're fairly new at this whole thing," she added.

"So how did you guys end up like...that?" Erik gestured and frowned. "Gilbert said he drank too much blood. But if you two are 'new' vampires, how come you lost control?"

"We starved ourselves," Alfred said. "Tried to sustain ourselves on other things..." he looked upset and somewhat ashamed.

"Last thing I remember is blacking out and now we're here," Matthew mumbled.

"Interesting," Erik hummed.  
"And you two then?" he turned to the last two vampires Cécile had let out; the pair were currently examining Erik's paperwork on his desk – utterly oblivious to the others as they mumbled to one another quietly.

"Hu?" the blonde vampire jumped and promptly placed the paper back down once he realised Erik had addressed them.  
"Us?" he pointed to himself and glanced toward the other dark haired man.

"Yes," Erik rolled his eyes.

"I'm Eduard," The blonde replied and offered his hand towards Erik. "I am so fascinating by this drug! It works fantastically. It's a huge breakthrough!"

"Thank you..." Erik shook the man's hand. "Maarten started it, I've just improved it."

"Close to perfected," the other vampire mumbled almost inaudibly.

"Sorry?" Erik looked confused. "I didn't catch that."

"Apologises. My name is Kiku. Eduard and I are scientists. We've been searching for a way to 'cure' ourselves for a long time, but our last endeavour didn't really work and we just hungered for blood more," Kiku sighed.

"Not one of our finest moments," Eduard coughed.

"A cure?" Erik's face lit up. "Did you find anything useful?"

"Well we found a way to appear more human," Eduard shrugged. "We've been able to walk outside in sunlight for a few years now, but nothing beyond that."

"No. no," Erik smiled. "That's wonderful. Very useful!" his eyes lit up and placed a hand on his desk. "This could be so useful in finding a real 'cure', besides, any research can be good research if we just apply and use it correctly."

"Well, when you put it like that..." Eduard laughed and scratched the back of his head.

"Oh sure. Lets make vampires immune to sunlight. Great idea," Maarten grumbled and rolled his eyes. "A great idea to make it easier for them to prey on humans."

"Maybe not all us enjoy our predicament," Elisabeth hissed at him, and Maarten took a step backwards.

"Let us not argue right now," Oksana suggested with a smile. "This is after all a wonderful opportunity for us all to perhaps find some peace," she added.

"And him?" Natalia motioned to Antonio. "Should he be let out too?"

"No," Maarten replied promptly.

"You don't get much of a say here," Cécile interjected. "If you can both agree to be civil then he can be let out too."

"He's out to kill me!" Maarten hissed. "Did you not see or hear anything?"

"Oh please," Erik rolled his eyes. "You're immortal. We all know he would have quite a hard time should he try," he added with a sneer. "Besides, Mircea tried to kill us all too, but I don't see you locking him up any more."

Maarten opened his mouth to retaliate, but he couldn't argue against it.  
Erik had a point.  
Mircea was and had always been a bigger threat than Antonio had ever been or would ever be. By all accounts; Mircea should be the one behind bars.

"Antonio was it?" Cécile asked as she stepped between Maarten and the tanned man.

"Yes..." Antonio replied with a frown.

"I understand you've got some grudge against Maarten here, but please, right now we all really need his assistance, so please, can you promise me not to harm him?"

Antonio stared at her blankly for a while. Green eyes scanning her every feature until he caught the glare of Erik.

"Fine," he finally said.

"Good," Cécile clapped her hands together, not noticing the cold glare that both Ivan and Erik were now sending Antonio from across the room.

"Come on, I'll show you all round," Cécile smiled as she unlocked Antonio's cell, Maarten frowning at him as he stepped outside the bars.

However, as much as Antonio wished to jump and tear Maarten's eyes out from their sockets, he remained calm.  
He didn't like the look Ivan was giving him, and Feliciano and Romano were both giving him a pleading look.

Not now. Not yet.  
Antonio took a deep breath and bowed deeply for Cécile.

"I will refrain from harming anyone within this household..." he said.

"Good, thank you," she replied and smiled.

Maarten stayed behind as the vampires very politely and orderly followed Cécile upstairs.  
Erik remained behind, still engrossed in his work.

"This isn't a good idea," Maarten warned.

"What part?" Erik asked without tearing his eyes of his paperwork. "Us getting magic? Letting the vampire loose or letting any vampires live here in the first place?"

"All of the above?" Maarten replied hesitantly.

"Right," Erik grumbled. "So in the long list of really awful ideas I've had recently, this one doesn't really break the scales."

"I understand..." Maarten mumbled. "but I don't like it..." he added.

"What's not to like? My brother getting murdered and turned? My wife receiving the same fate? Your sister marrying a necromancer who tried to kill us? Said necromancer working for a vampire who tried to kill us all just to bring his brother back?" Erik stared blankly at him. "Come on Maarten. I respect you as a doctor and as a researcher. But right now you are being irrational for no reason."

"But," Maarten tried to interject.

"No. I will say this as your friend," Erik stood up to his full height and stared right into Maarten's eyes. "Some grudges are best to be left behind. If you could forgive Mircea, then you should surely be able to extend your hand towards Antonio."

"Yeah, and watch as he bites my fingers off," Maarten sneered.

"They'll grow back," Erik replied bluntly. "And that's not the point. I don't know if he's telling the truth. If you killed his brother or not. It's likely and you can not say he's wrong in assuming so. You're well known for a reason around here, and it's not because you're good at healing the sick."

"I..." Maarten paused and stared at the floor in defeat. "I'm worried he'll hurt Anika."

"There are several very powerful vampires and one rather powerful Necromancer in this household who all love your sister dearly. If you think they'll let any harm come to her, then you need to re-evaluate where your trust lies."

"I can't trust vampires..." Maarten muttered.

"Yes you can and yes you do," Erik bit back. "You're the one who said we should help Mircea, and we all trusted your decision. But if we're going to do this. If we're going to keep helping him and you, then you need to put your trust in us to."

"I...I...I just," Maarten stopped and ran a hand through his hair with a sigh. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm on edge. I know..."

"Go for a walk. Smoke or drink or whatever awful habit you have that relaxes you," Erik sighed. "Everyone you've not trusted have turned out to be trustworthy, so why can't that notion extend to Antonio?"

"You're right, but I don't like it."

"You don't have to like it," Erik said and rubbed his temples. "But you need to stop trying to cause more arguments than we need. I understand Antonio and you aren't going to be skipping through flower-fields like you and Mircea do, but at least don't go murdering him in the dark."

"Firstly, I don't frolic anywhere with anyone," Maarten frowned. "And secondly; I'd kill him in daylight."

"Right," Erik didn't even appear to be listening to him any more. "Keep telling yourself that, maybe one day it will become true."

"Hey, don't take that tone with me," Maaren sneered.

"You're behaving like a child. No, worse than one," Erik replied coolly back. "So until you calm down and come to your senses, you can leave my lab."

"Fine." Maarten growled and marched out the room. He didn't deserve being spoken to like that.

Climbing the stairs calmed him.  
He just needed a little time alone.  
The house was too full of people he barely knew – and even the ones he thought he knew held secrets from him.

Maarten sighed and leant against the wall, dragging his nails down the hard stones.  
He was being stupid and stubborn. Irrational and unreasonable.  
Yet; it was hard to calm down. Hard to accept people he'd hated for so long into his life.

'Hypocrite' a voice in his head told him, and Maarten felt ashamed.

Fresh air and a long walk.  
A clear mind and a calm mind – that's what he needed.

He just hoped Cécile was done showing the new 'house-mates' around by the time he got back.


	31. Chapter 31

The air was getting a little colder as the sun started to set.  
Perfect for Maarten who felt that a nice long walk did calm him down significantly.  
Well; a long walk and a packet of cigarettes did (even if he could already hear his sister nagging at him to stop smoking. What was the point of doing so now? He couldn't die.)

He felt more ready to deal with the next insane thing he was undoubtedly going to encounter soon.  
In fact; he almost welcomed it.

However, the moment he stepped through the front doors he was met with the sound of loud laughter and chatter.  
Grimacing, Maarten shuffled his way towards the dining room.  
Francis had clearly made food for them all, and the entire household had congregated around the table to taste the food.

'Great,' he thought to himself with a frown, now he had to hide from them all.  
He near tip-toed through the hallway, making his way towards the stairs when the laughter from the dining room became louder.

"Where are you off to?" Mircea stuck his head out from the dining room, smile wide and genuine.

"Upstairs..." Maarten replied calmly, hoping he wouldn't have to explain anything else. He didn't feel like talking to anyone.

"Not joining us? Ivan has some really good stories."

"I'm sure he does..." Maarten grumbled. "But I've got work to do..."

"Oh?" Mircea looked surprised. "Work? I can't believe it. Almost everyone else is joining in!"

"Maybe..." Maarten sighed. ""But I don't feel like being social."

"Ah.." Mircea stepped outside and closed the door behind him. "That makes two of you then..." he said softly.

"Who?" Maarten tried to listen if there was one voice missing, he suspected it was Erik who had decided to skulk away from the party and hide in the laboratory.

"Cécile," Mircea replied and shrugged. "She said she needed a bit of fresh air, but she's been gone for at least twenty minutes now..."

"Cécile?" Maarten blinked. Out of them all, he figured Cécile would be the one to jump onto the idea of a dinner party with everyone.

"Yes. I didn't want to ask. I don't think she'd tell me either," Mircea laughed nervously. "You know... the whole... thing," he waved his hand and looked embarrassed.

"Yes... probably true." Maarten sighed. Who knew what Cécile really thought of the man responsible for her situation. "I'll go... look for her then," Maarten frowned.

"Come join us when you find her. I think you'll really like Eduard and Kiku," Mircea grinned before disappearing back into the dining room and Maarten heard Ivan enthusiastically greet the vampire with a loud 'cheers'.

Maarten didn't even know where Cécile would go to escape the party, but he himself figured the garden was as good a place to look for her as any other.

He literally stumbled across her there.  
Maarten cursed loudly as he caught himself before he fell, glaring at the petite woman.  
However, his expression softened once he noticed Cécile's tears.

"Are you okay?" he asked quietly.

"No," she replied and shook her head, voice weak as she tried to wipe the tears away. "Who knew vampires could cry..." she added and laughed weakly, a feeble attempt at hiding from him.

"What's wrong?" Maarten crouched down on the grass, trying to get closer without outright invading her personal space.

"I can't go on like this," she whispered after a while.

"Like what?" Maarten asked and took a seat on the grass beside her.

"Erik's getting older... day by day. At first I thought I was just imagining it. But he is... he's ageing," the last word was almost drowned out by a sob.

"He's still young," Maarten said, not really certain what he should or could say to ease her worries.

"But he won't be forever," Cécile whispered back. "He was already three years older than me before I...died," she swallowed nervously before continuing. "And soon he'll look even older. I'll stop looking like his wife... people will think I'm his daughter. Granddaughter even," she couldn't keep herself from fidgeting, spinning her golden wedding ring around and around on her finger.  
"I can't watch him die. I just can't."

Maarten swallowed. Her fears and worry hit a little close to his own.

"You don't have to either..." Maarten reminded her carefully. "You can... turn him," the words felt awfully bitter on his tongue as he spoke them. He hated the suggestion. He hated that it was at all an option; but it was still true. If she couldn't die, she could ensure Erik wouldn't do so either.  
And all it would take was a bite.

"I can't do that," Cécile whispered.

"Why not? He would likely jump at the opportunity," Maarten scratched his head thoughtfully. "The idea that he too can soon posses magic is fascinating to him. Out of everyone here he's probably the one who'd willingly let you bite him."

"No," Cécile shook her head, her blonde braid almost undone. "He knows what this entails. This _non-life_. So he's not going to jump on it because he wants to do it, no..." Cécile sighed deeply and spun her wedding ring a few more times around her finger. "He'll do it only because it is my wish. I don't want him to become a vampire just because I am one..."

"Well, Halldór is one too. Erik is a lone human in a family of vampires," Maarten cleared his throat. "I don't think he'll give up being a human just because you want to be with him for ever... I think it probably goes both ways."

"Till death do us part wasn't meant to be this soon..." Cécile said almost inaudibly.

"Soon is a bit of an overstatement. He's not that old," Maarten carefully reached over and patted Cécile's head like he had used to do to his sister when they were younger. "He's excited about getting magic, you've seen how his eyes light up when we talk about it, right? And knowing him he'll be more than happy to become a vampire, even if it's just for 'scientific' purposes," Maarten smiled softly at her. "But he knows you and Halldór will outlive him. I don't think that's something he wants either."

"I don't want him to die.. he's not allowed. I mean. He can't. What would I do if he did?" Cécile was rambling now. "But... I'm not the one to make the decision... am I?" she looked up, clearly directing the question at him, and Maarten felt cold sweat at the back of his neck.  
This was not a question he wanted to answer.

"You just have to ask him..."

"I can't just do that!"

"Sure you can. 'Till death do you part' right? Said so yourself! Only now you can say you want to avoid having to ever be apart, even in death."

Cécile wiped her eyes and laughed dryly.  
"That's an awful way to ask him," she sighed.

"Really?" Maarten frowned. "I thought I was was a bit romantic."

"Hardly," Cécile scoffed, but Maarten noticed the slight smile on her lips.

"Made you stop crying so I'll call it a win-win anyway," he shrugged.

"Maybe," Cécile sighed. "But haven't you thought about this too?"

"Uh, well..." Maarten scratched the back of his hand nervously. "Maybe," he admitted softly.  
"It's not a subject I want to talk about with my sister, or our brother..."

"You have a brother?" Cécile stared at him. "Never heard either of you mention him..."

"I don't want to drag more people into this," Maarten frowned. "If he thinks me dead then that's probably better..."

"Doubtfully," Cécile sighed. "But I understand what you mean. This whole life of ours," she gestured towards the house and frowned. "It's all so strange. A few years ago I'd think you mad had you told me I'd be undead and living with other vampires."

"It seems mad when you look back," Maarten chuckled. "And yet this is somehow our life. For better or worse I suppose," he added with a sigh.

"Since when did you become the optimist here?"

"Since right now," Maarten huffed. "Also you looked like you needed it..."

"Thank you," Cécile smiled. "I appreciate the effort."

"Mircea noticed you'd left, told me to drag you back to the party," Maarten said softly. "But if you want I can tell him you fell asleep."

"Vampires don't sleep," Cécile reminded him with a coy smile.

"Okay so maybe that's a really bad lie, but you never know, maybe he'd believe it?"

"No," she replied and rolled her eyes. "If anything I think I have a husband who needs rescuing from too many people's liking."

"How on earth did you fall for someone so antisocial?" Maarten asked with a grin.

"He's silent and weird, antisocial and stingy. He's old fashioned and at first glance a real bore," Cécile sighed. "But he's so kind too. And he listens. And even if it's something he doesn't enjoy, he'll do it for me."

"Got him wrapped around your finger," Maarten laughed.

"And he me," Cécile sighed dreamily. "How could I not fall for someone who walked face first into a door the first time he saw me?"

Maarten had to cover his mouth to stop himself from laughing.  
"Oh wow..." he managed to utter. "His ego must have been wounded then."

"No. But his nose was," Cécile smiled. "He kept insisting he was fine even if blood was pouring out his nose. It was rather cute in hindsight... He didn't want me to worry."

"Idiot," Maarten snorted.

"Well, perhaps. It was broken..." Cécile shrugged.

"And you married him?" Maarten teased.

"Best decision of my life," Cécile smirked. "You'd do the same I bet."

"Marry Erik?" Maarten almost choked. "Sorry not my type."

"Wouldn't let you have him either," Cécile laughed. "I like him too much to give him up to you."

"Rude," Maarten snorted, but pleased to see her smile again. "I'd make a great husband."

"No you wouldn't. Erik would murder you in your sleep on the wedding night."

"You wound me..." Maarten frowned.

"Really?" Cécile glanced at him coyly. "I don't believe you."

"Yeah okay fine. I'd probably try to punch his teeth out after a week," Maarten chuckled. "You can keep him all for yourself."

"I plan to," Cécile smiled. "For as long as it's possible at least," she added with a sigh.

"At this rate I'm going force Mircea to turn him for you..."

"You wouldn't," Cécile said coolly.

"No. Probably not. But either you make a decision with him or Halldór does it for you. And I have a feeling he'd love to have his brother around for longer than a human life span."

"How can you say things with such certainty?"

"Because..." Maarten took a deep breath. "Because I'm pretty sure I'll do the exact same thing..." he finally admitted, both to her and himself.

"You'll give her a choice to choose though... won't you?"

"I don't think I can make her immortal against her will. Imagine how badly that would end!" Maarten scratched the back of his head with a grimace.

"Oh, I don't think so," Cécile laughed softly. "Anika would forgive you after a thousand years or so."

"Or not," Maarten sighed. "So I'm scared to even ask."

"Makes two of us then," Cécile hummed softly. "I suppose repeating what you've just told me won't work."

"Probably not. I was never good at listening to my own advice."

"Somehow I don't doubt it," Cécile tried to hide her smile.

"Ready to go back?" he asked her as he stood up and dusted grass off his trousers. "They might come looking for us both soon..."

"Mhm," Cécile nodded, accepting Maarten's silent offer of a hand to get her up on her feet.  
"I suppose I have a husband to eat."

"Ew," Maarten grimaced.

"Would you rather he eat me?" Cécile smirked up at him.

"I...uh," Maarten felt his cheeks go red. "Never mind," he huffed.

Cécile couldn't help but tease him as they made their way back inside, and Maarten couldn't really bring himself do anything about it either.  
So he opted to tease her right back.

They joined the party in slightly higher spirits from before, and Maarten was glad to see that Cécile slotted perfectly into the group as if nothing had ever been any worry to her.  
This was how it should be.  
This was what he hoped could continue.


	32. Chapter 32

While a crowded house pleased some and displeased others, it certainly made for some interesting days.

Erik had never imagined he'd be housing so many vampires, nor did he particularly enjoy the amount of noise that sometimes echoed around the corridors, but he did make significant progress on his 'cure'.

Ivan was a willing test subject – large in stature and with a pain threshold that was incredibly high even for a vampire.  
He didn't really care for how Ivan would lean over his desk and read his notes without his permission, but he tolerated it to the best of his ability.  
Ivan's own blood was proving interesting to study.

Not to mention the blood of his sisters.

Erik had a selection of vampires related to one another now, and insisted on blood samples from them all.  
Cécile included much to her dismay.

"Found anything interesting?" Maarten asked as Erik studied some samples under his microscope.

"Nothing ground breaking, but still interesting," Erik muttered. "I'm trying to find any links in blood samples that tie family blood relations to the vampire bond..."

"What do you mean?" Maarten pulled up a chair and yanked the notebook from Erik's desk, flipping though the pages with a keen eye. "Oh," he mumbled as he read what Erik had so far discovered.

"Like a DNA link of sorts," Erik said. "It would of course be easier if I had blood samples of someone before they were turned and after, but beggars can't be choosers here. Unless..."

"If you're thinking of turning anyone I will personally punch you to hell and back." Maarten warned darkly.

"Yeah yeah... I know I know," Erik frowned. "Just saying..."

"We need a 'cure', not a vampire family tree," Maarten sighed and handed Erik's notes back to him.

"One thing may not exclude the other," Erik grumbled.

"How so?"

"Given the individual skills of a vampire, and based on what they were like as humans – one type of drug may not be the cure for everyone," Erik explained and switched glass slides, peering through the lens at the other sample. "Take Cécile and her cousins. They're related, and thus there's some common things found in their blood. However, as far as I can tell; variations will also occur depending on what vampire turned you."

"So..." Maarten scratched his chin. "If we can trace who turned who by blood samples, we can work out a tailored cure for each vampire?"

"That was my thought," Erik nodded. "Cécile and Halldór have link that I lack, but if Mircea was to turn me I'm sure I'd join the same 'group' as them."

"And me?" Maarten asked, trying to make sense of the little tally marks on each blood sample slide.

"You also share a link with them and Mircea, but not as strong. But do tell me if you drink some human blood. Because I then have to check your blood again."

"Noted, but not happening," Maarten huffed, crossing his arms and glaring.

"I know," Erik waved his hand. "Just saying. For science you know?"

"Yes, for science," Maarten scoffed. "That's what this is still about, right?"

"Are you trying to insinuate anything else?" Erik glared coolly at him.

"Not at all..." Maarten sighed. "I'm just tired of not getting anywhere here. We seem to get some progress and then we're thrown off the track!"

"Ah, yes I know what you mean," Erik grimaced and stared at the growing mountain of paper and notebooks he had started to accumulate on his desk. "We get one lead on how to fix one thing and then we've got a hundred new problems to solve before we can return the original issue at hand."

"Just..." Maarten took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "Just keep at it. Eventually we've got to make something that works perfectly."

"Or close to," Erik smiled faintly. "I can't create a magic pill that solves it all, but I can perhaps make something close to magic."

"Mhm, yeah. Magic..." Maarten mumbled to himself. "That's what we really need. A spell to reverse what's been done..."

"Are we still talking about vampires or are we now onto Ciprian's powers?"

"Oh," Maarten shook his head. "Uh. Both?" he said with a shrug.

"Compared to 'curing' vampires, transferring Ciprian's powers back to Mircea is going to be a walk in the park."

"And taking some of those powers for yourself?" Maarten raised an eyebrow. "How easy do you think that will be?"

"Given my family history with magic I doubt that will be a problem," Erik shrugged. "It's the least of my worries right now. I assure you that."

"Good to know," Maarten replied, leaning back in the chair and letting Erik get back to his research.

The silence in the lab was nice – no vampires trying to break out of cages or causing any trouble any more.  
Just the sounds of Erik taking notes and some chemicals bubbling away in the corner.  
Maarten opted for checking them out as Erik seemed lost in the microscope for the time being.

He liked seeing Erik's work in progress.  
Every little discovery was jotted carefully down, any new information would be checked, double checked and checked again for errors until he was sure he had the correct data.

The blood samples from each of them seemed insignificant at first, but Maarten didn't have to spend too long reading Erik's notes before things started falling into place.

Just like blood type could vary from person to person, certain aspects of a vampire's blood was a good marker for knowing who had turned who.

It had also given Erik an insight in some of the individual powers of some of the vampires.

Ivan had an incredibly high tolerance to the Selenium found in garlic, while his sisters only were slightly more resistant to it.  
Any 'cure' given to Ivan could be twice the strength of whatever else you gave someone else and he'd still struggle with the thirst for blood.

Maarten had watched him eat a whole garlic ("For science," Erik had said and handed it to him) and feel pretty good afterwards – a feat that was impossible for any of the other vampires.  
Gilbert had to leave the room, even the smell of the garlic was too much for him to handle.

And their blood samples reflected this finding. Ivan's blood contained a much higher level of Selenium than Gilbert's blood did, thus enabling him to withstand the toxic levels of Selenium found in garlic.

So Ivan was a true abnormality in terms of vampires.

Even Mircea had admitted to Maarten that Ivan unsettled him greatly.  
He didn't act threateningly, but the air around him made him seem like he plotted something sinister.  
"Nonsense," Francis had told him when he'd voiced his opinion quietly. "Ivan thinks only of protecting his family. He's just like you."  
Francis's words had been jumping around in Maarten's mind for days, and he didn't know what to do about his growing frustration.

"Hey, Erik. Can I talk to you about something?" Maarten asked softly.

"Mhm," came the mumbled reply.

"I'm scared..."

Erik paused, looked up from his microscope and turned his head towards Maarten.  
"Scared?" he asked. "Why?"

"All this magic. From one person to the other. What's that going to do? Will we change?"

"Well..." Erik cleared his throat. "Change is relative. Magic doesn't have to cause huge changes, but what you do with it may end up changing you. But that's a decision _you_ make."

"As in if I choose Black or White magic?"

"Given the nature of the magic Mircea had and the magic Ciprian currently possesses – we're much more likely to receive Black magic here..." Erik tapped his pen against the desk. "But that's not to say it is inherently destructive or evil. It all comes down to how we end up using it."

"A moral decision then?"

"Pretty much. A pen can be as mighty as a sword, but you wouldn't show up to a sparring match with one, would you?"

"That's an awful analogy," Maarten frowned.

"No no. Think of White magic as the pen. Black magic as a sword."

"Okay..." Maarten crossed his arms, Erik's explanations didn't always follow the most logical path, but he stayed put.

"If we think of destructive power, a sword is much easier to use if you wish to break things, correct?"

"Yeah," Maarten nodded.

"But with a pen you can cause just as much damage, if not more, but not by the same means." Erik smiled and held the pen in his hand out for Maarten to take.  
"You might think White magic is the only good magic, but it can just as easily be used to cause havoc as Black magic can. The difference lies in the _intentions _behind the magic."

"So Arthur's Black magic can be used like White magic?"

"He would perhaps know that best himself," Erik shrugged. "But if Veronique is in essence a White magic user and Arthur a Black magic user, you would assume that you shouldn't anger Arthur while Veronique is all flowers and hugs."

"Yeah, but I know Veronique well enough to know she's capable of, well, scary things." Maarten shuddered slightly at the thought.

"Precisely. If you pitched them against one another – Veronique's vampireism aside, you wouldn't necessarily pick the winner just by knowing their magic inclination alone."

"My money is on Veronique," Maarten chuckled.

"Oh same," Erik smirked. "Arthur doesn't stand a chance."

Maarten laughed softly at the idea of Arthur trying to raise any dead to battle Veronique – with hilarious end results in Maarten's daydream.

"That said, people like Veronique and Halldór – who possessed White magic before turning into vampires should probably be categorised as grey magic users. Seeing as they receive a little Black magic from being vampires, which then mixes with their existing White magic."

"See, I think I understand but to be honest I'm not even sure what makes White and Black magic different, except by name and perhaps how it's used. Good and Evil?" Maarten rolled the pen between his fingers, trying to place this unscientific knowledge into boxes that made sense to him.

"I've been told it 'feels' different." Erik shrugged. "But White magic draws more on the energy of the person casting the magic, while Black magic tends to draw from others or their surroundings."

"So White magic is a drain on the user alone, while Black magic drains others?" Maarten grimaced. That didn't sound too good.

"Simplified, yes." Erik nodded. "But like I said, both can be used for good and evil. A White magic user can probably use the energy of others to fuel their spells, but they rely more on their own powers and what they borrow from nature. Black magic is more about 'stealing', but not all Black magic users follow the same rules."

"All right, slightly less worried now," Maarten admitted with a smile. "But it's still a little bit terrifying." He handed back the pen to Erik, watching as Erik spun it around in the air a few times before he jotted down some numbers in the margin of his notes.

"Change always is," Erik hummed. "You'll get used to it."

"Hope so. I don't think I get a return policy on all of this..."

"No. Not at all."

"Any idea of what sort of magic we'll, uh, get?" Maarten picked nervously at his own nails.

"Not at all. This isn't some magic shop where you get to choose what you get or not," Erik cracked his knuckles and grinned. "But personally I really hope I get the ability to teleport. That would be fun. I could then have revenge on the amount of times Mircea just decided to appear behind me unnoticed. " Erik chuckled darkly at the idea.

"For the sake of peace and quiet in this house I really hope you don't get that ability," Maarten frowned.

"Don't say that. I could be in the kitchen, grab a cup of coffee and be down here in the lab in less time than it takes to walk from my bedroom to the bathroom."

"You have a skewed sense of what's useful..." Maarten rolled his eyes.

"I assure you I have the right priorities at all times," Erik huffed.

"You wish," Maarten snorted. "You're a pair of thick glasses and a whacky hairstyle away from a mad scientist."

"You started all this," Erik replied bitterly. "By experimenting on my little brother."

Maarten frowned. He didn't have a very good comeback for that at all.  
"Fine. So we're both mad scientists/doctors who clearly need other hobbies besides obsessively looking at blood and its components."

"Each to their own," Erik hummed. "This type of work is rather fun."

"So you keep saying... I still think you're weird."

"Do you want my help or...?" Erik crossed his arms and looked at Maarten with a stern glare.

"Like before, I don't have a choice," Maarten frowned. "Your serum is much better than the one I made, and no way can I replicate it for myself."

"Precisely," Erik smirked. "So you'll just have to put up with me and my 'mad scientists' ways."

"Me and everyone else in the house hold," Maarten sighed. "You crave more blood from us than any of the vampires do."

"But I'm the least likely to drink it."

"Really?" Maarten cocked an eyebrow. "Because I can very well imagine you drinking vampire blood to see what it would do to a normal human."

"Eh, well," Erik scratched the back of his head. "The idea has crossed my mind..."

"Of course it has," Maarten face palmed, groaning over Erik's lack of fear for well – _anything_.

"Someone's going to have to find out what happens eventually." Erik shrugged and poked at his microscope.

"No. Just find a serum that can properly quench this thirst and we can all move on with our lives... Please," Maarten begged.

"Our to-do list seems to just grow and grow. My experience and research papers would land me a job in any magical institution I wanted," Erik hummed. "That said, between this and transferring magic back and forth between vampires and humans and people in-between that it's a wonder my business isn't failing by now."

"Oh..." Maarten bit his lip, feeling very guilty for a split moment. "Wait... It's not failing at all, is it?"

"Far from it. But I do have a very dedicated and talented secretary/business partner who's very good at convincing people to keep investing in new projects and drugs," Erik chuckled darkly.

"Why do I get a nagging feeling Cécile has just gotten even better at her job after turning into a vampire..." Maarten sighed and massaged his temples.

"Nonsense. She's always been brilliant," Erik frowned.

"My apologies to her and you then," Maarten sighed.

"I'll accept on her behalf," Erik scoffed. "But next time you insult her I'll kick your sorry ass out of this house."

"Good luck trying," Maarten snorted.

"I don't care if you're a head taller than me and immortal. I will find a way," Erik replied darkly and glared at Maarten.

"Noted," Maarten whispered and stood up from his chair. Clearly he had overstayed his welcome.  
"I'd rather not get injected with anything where I don't know what it is or does... again."

"Worked out fine last time," Erik hummed a little too happily. "Send Ivan down here if you see him, will you?"

"Sure," Maarten shuddered. He hated admitting it, but slowly all the fear he had had about Mircea was ebbing away, worming itself into other parts of his subconsciousness.  
Erik sometimes unsettled him greatly.  
Hell, some days he felt like everyone was a bigger threat than Mircea had ever been – and he knew that was the biggest pile of nonsense in the whole universe.

However, for every new thing he learned about the others, something he didn't feel he should know seemed to surface.


End file.
